


Carmen Antiquum - An Ancient Song

by wcdarling



Series: Carmina [1]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Ancient Rome, M/M, Polyamory, Seduction, Slash, Vampire Chronicles, Vampires, ancient vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7240615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wcdarling/pseuds/wcdarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alone at his home in New Orleans, Marius is visited by a figure from his past... whom he has never met but likes immediately. Opening story in the long Carmina series. Be prepared for references to Ancient Roman times and bunch of free love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the opening story in the long Carmina* series and, frankly, my favorite segment. I wanted to introduce a new vampire into the coven, someone who would exist in a separate sphere and operate by different rules. I also wanted to explore the way vampires might perceive history. This was the result.
> 
>  ***Carmina**  
>  This series of stories -- the first real fan fiction I ever really attempted -- focuses on Marius and a new male character of my invention. The main focus of this story is the notion of vampires' relationships to the times in which they lived as mortals and their relationship to the centuries as they pass. Includes historical fiction, romance, poetry, and light slash. Most of the action takes place post-TVA but certain aspects of that story are ignored. I will be posting this entire series to AO3 over times, one story cycle at a time. 
> 
> My creative inspiration in writing these stories came from several sources: 1) Pandora, a lovely and underrated novel, 2) the poems of Horace, who lived during Marius' mortal lifetime, 3) the film Gladiator (as historically inaccurate as it is); 3) and study of Roman history. And though there is MUCH historic and literary inaccuracy in this I am sure, well, sorry, I was having fun.
> 
> I confess I was on the fence about even sharing this series on AO3 it's rather embarrassing to me now (OMG, is it ever!!!!) but yeah... I will be posting this entire series to AO3 over times, one story cycle at a time.
> 
>  **Story Notes**  
>     
> When I first wrote this, I wondered if it was plausible for a teenager to have written world-renowned poetry. This was before I knew about the French poet Rimbaud (1854-1891), who wrote almost all his poetry between the ages of 16 and 19.
> 
>  **Spoilers**  
>  Virtually none, but action takes place post-Armand. The sequel to this story is "Carmen Aeternum."
> 
>  **Categories**  
>  Drama, Romance, Historic Fiction.
> 
>  **Rating**  
>  PG to PG-13  
> References to sex but never gets detailed  
> Also, OC is a teenager in appearance ONLY.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone at his home in New Orleans, Marius is visited by a figure from his past... whom he has never met but likes immediately. Opening story in the long Carmina series. Be prepared for Ancient Rome references and free love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the story intro notes for info on the entire series.
> 
> This is by far the longest chapter of the story. It has a couple of illustrations.

The sun had set over New Orleans, the pink glow of twilight ushering in the night. Marius remained on the very cusp of consciousness, and what's more, he was dreaming. There were no visions in this dream, only a feeling of great happiness and a beautiful, simple song. The voice was clear and high with a sweetness to it that held Marius in thrall.

The melody was familiar, comforting. Under the closed lids of his eyes, Marius felt himself floating back in time. Why, he had not heard such a cadence in so long, he had not heard that variation in... centuries.

Marius awoke with a start and sat bolt upright where he slept. _That song._ It was beautiful, it was familiar, and, he had finally realized as his mind had penetrated the blanket of sleep, it was in _Latin_ , and not the church Latin still sung in this day and age, but the ancient colloquial Latin of his youth.

Marius immediately banished the dream and closed his mind. In so doing, he realized with a start that the dream had not come from him, but had been a spell, a projection from another being.

_Another being_. A flood of questioned poured with a rush into his mind. Who among the remaining coven was powerful enough or had the will to cast such a spell? And who would cast a spell with such a song? And who could possibly know the old Latin and have that heavenly voice?

But these thoughts soon dropped to the background. In closing his mind, Marius had become aware of his surroundings, the solid building in which he lived, the sounds of his environment. And tuning in to these sounds, he could not fail to recognize a familiar strain of music, and it was the music of the dream, only it was not a dream -- it was coming from nearby, just outside the house!

Marius stood, alarmed. Giving thanks that he was alone and had only himself to protect, he burst out of the hidden chamber in which he had slept and locked it behind him with the power of his mind. He flew down the secret passages and up the stairs to the ground floor.

In the center of the living room, he stood still, concentrating his hearing amid the general quiet. Yes, someone was singing, and the voice was the same one he had heard in the dream. So beautifully clear and yet so frightening, not for the sound itself, but for its authenticity. Perfectly, perfectly Roman, with an accent he had not heard since what mortals now termed "Antiquity."

But as much as he wanted to, as much as the song implored him, Marius could not fall prey to this beauty, this reverie. He must prepare himself to do battle. What sort of creature was he dealing with? Why was he being visited? How had this being found him out and how at such an early hour?

Marius listened with his ears for a moment more, and then opened his mind. The song caught him like a soft caress.

Struggling to keep his mind open without becoming too enraptured, Marius scanned the area. Yes, it was coming from the yard. From the very yard!

Marius knew the house had been secured before dawn, but nevertheless, he felt fear. He loved this new home in this steamy city, and the idea that a strange being had penetrated the grounds without him even knowing was a shock. And while he stood inside in safety now, it was unlikely that a being that had worked such a spell would be kept out by mere doors.

Nevertheless, as he stepped out through one of the French doors, Marius was sure to lock the door behind him. 

* * *

The song grew louder. Marius peered through the misty twilight, searching the shadows of the great oaks. This singer must be very close, Marius thought.

He waited. The song continued, working its way towards a soft and gentle end, and Marius stood, his bare feet on the grass, listening to the sound. Of the spirit that produced it, he knew nothing... but of the song, he felt he knew everything.

With a final flourish, the tune came to an end. Aside from the sound of the wind in the trees, silence stretched in all directions.

And then, in the corner of his eye, Marius saw a movement. Turning, he saw a man, a young man, step from behind an oak tree. Wearing sleeveless shirt of deep purple, his arms were open, yielding, and his face -- such a perfectly divine, gorgeous expression. Even at this distance, Marius knew he was in the presence of a true beauty. And he also knew that somehow this boy was familiar.

Had he seen this boy recently? Had he passed him here on the very streets of New Orleans and simply not noticed? Or was this an old recollection?

_Old._ His eyes locked on the mysterious visitor. Yes, old, from ancient times. _But who was it?_ The question pressed on his brain even as he prepared to initiate a communication.

Clearing his mind at last, Marius spoke. He could have delivered the message as pure thought but he wanted to break the silence.

"Who are you?" Marius called out, careful to sound confident but without a trace of malice or anger.

As he asked the question, he sent out a pulse of curiosity, and as the words were offered into the quiet of the yard, it seemed that the pulse was returned as a quiet shock, something akin to… shyness.

Marius watched to read an expression from this being who he was now certain was a vampire. The figure cast his eyes to the side, seeming to be lost in thought.

Then, his face snapping into suddenly alertness, the boy called out, "Formosus de Maracalas."

That voice. Again, the accent was one he had not heard in centuries. Pure Latin, no trace of any church learning or other language. As for the name, Formosus, how could any other name be more fitting? Yes, if anyone could be called "lovely" or "fine," surely it was this one. And the mention of Maracalas, an ancient city which to Marius' knowledge had been reduced to ruins in the early part of the millennium. This mystery was too much to bear.

Marius stepped forward. Despite his apprehension, despite the lingering notion that this appearance might somehow be a trick, he simply had to know the identity of the speaker, if only to banish this unfamiliar feeling of confusion he felt at hearing that song and now this voice.

"I am Marius. Please, come closer and let us talk."

In the shade of the far-off oak tree, Marius saw a look of wonder and then a radiant smile.

"Thank you, Marius," the youth called sweetly, still in Latin, "thank you ever so much." 

* * *

Within moments, Formosus was seated across from Marius in a low, reclining chair on the garden patio. Seated at the edge of chair, he was obviously nervous, but not in the typical manner of a boy. No, this one was like Armand, a boy only in outward appearance. From the stark whiteness of his skin to the obvious fact that no mere fledging could have created such a vision in his mind, Marius knew without thinking that this one was old, perhaps as old as he. And the Latin, oh, it was too mysterious and too utterly tempting.

Marius, deciding he should be the first to speak and thereby claim himself some security, said finally, "Formosus. That is truly a lovely name." He spoke Latin without thinking, as he had all along.

The youth again glanced down, exhibiting the same modesty as before. His shirt was simple, sleeveless, a deep violet color, the color of flowers, and together with the wavy black hair, against his pale fale, he reminded Marius of the moon against the shadow of the midnight sky. On his legs Formosus wore a pair of straight, linen trousers and plain leather sandals.

But his face, oh, that face! It was so finely made Marius it made him question the very nature of creation, to imagine that this one must be very close to the image of an angel, how could he have been born of human flesh and blood? What mother could have brought such a being into the world?

_Oh, he is too beautiful_ , Marius thought, suddenly chastened by darker memories of similar loves. _Please let me show some restraint this time_ , he prayed.

Formosus glanced up again, a look of relief passing over his features. "Thank you, Marius, thank you. Thank you for not coming after me, for not injuring me, for not trying to strike me down because I am unfamiliar. I bear you no malice, and I ask nothing of you. I come only because I feel the need to speak with you, to see if perhaps we could exchange information and then, who knows, to see if we could find a connection. I need a connection."

"A connection to what?" Marius asked, trying to sort out the ambiguity of the request.

Formosus sighed. "To these times, Marius, to these times!" he exclaimed, making a broad gesture with his hands to indicate the world around them - the chairs, the house, the neighborhood, the city of New Orleans, the world. Finally meeting Marius' eyes, he seemed suddenly to grow quiet and slightly smaller.

Then, leaning forward slightly and speaking with the intensity of the confessional, he said, "I am very far from where I started out in life. And although I have had a long life going back to the time of Augustus, I have been away from the world for some time, and I feel you are one of the few beings in this world who can share with me some understanding of things."

"And so you came and sang to me," Marius said, his voice filled with gratitude.

"Yes. I sang," replied the golden voice, a smile upon those deep red lips. "It is my gift, it has always been my gift. And when I cannot express myself in words or in deeds, I express myself in song. I find it touches the heart of men, and almost never will I be harmed when I sing, for my song is a balm, a salve, a soft, silken scarf that melts men's souls and makes them acquiesce, accept, at least listen."

Clearly, the boy understood his power. And Marius felt that power again, as he caught the trail of a song singing from within the boy, who sat on the chair as before, a trace of a smile still remaining.

_Back to business_ , Marius told himself. "So. Formosus. You come from ancient times. From my time."

Formosus quickly nodded in assent. "Yes. It feels so good to say it. I never told anyone in earlier times, I was simply a 'boy from nowhere' or a boy from someplace I had invented for the sake of convenience. No, before I would not have dreamed of sharing this, not with just anyone. I come to you because I believe you will understand."

His curiosity quickening once more, Marius resumed his questioning, trying to use his reason in the typical manner. "You come from my time, a powerful vampire, same as I. And now we are living at the start of the second millennium. And in all this time, we have never met, never become acquainted?"

The boy's face was unreadable. And in the moment of asking the question, Marius suddenly recalled the sense of recognition he had had upon first seeing his figure in the shade. He knew this boy's face!

Formosus shifted his position, crossing one slender leg over the other. "No, we have not met. I would like to tell you my story so that you can understand."

_Understand_. _Yes, I would also like to_ understand _\- at once - this mystery_ , Marius thought.

Deciding to gamble a bit, he pressed on: "But, Formosus, before that, I have more questions."

"Of course. Such as?"

"Is it possible I recognize you?"

The boy's lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to speak but had no words. Slowly he moved his lips, but still no sound came out. At last: "No, I can't imagine it. We never met. Not that I recall. I did not encounter you as one of the other blood drinkers of this world."

_I wish I had_ , Marius caught himself thinking, then went on: "But what of before, when we were mortals?"

Formosus was silent. "For that, I cannot account. I met many people in my day in the sun." He paused and then his lips curled into a smile. "What an awful pun!" the boy laughed. "Honestly, I have been picking up the damndest figures of speech and, worse, I keep bringing them into Latin and they are simply horrendous!" He was shaking his head, obviously telling himself he needed to keep his head straight.

Marius smiled. The laughter had improved the mood, made him feel slightly more relaxed. But there was still this business to attend to, this investigation.

"I must nail this down, Formosus, I cannot let this hang. I feel I remember your face, your form, and the memories are distant, incredibly distant, and I cannot place them. Tell me, you were from Maracalas?"

"Yes, I spent many years there." The voice was slow and the words seemed deliberately vague, far away.

Marius paused, gathering his memories. "Maracalas. I spent some time in that city, visited it on more than one occasion, before it was finally destroyed."

Formosus sighed heavily. "Yes, destroyed. One cannot stop the march of time…" Briefly, his eyes gazed off into space. Then, returning to the moment, he ran his right hand through his short black hair and gave another smile. "But go on, more questions?"

Marius smiled in turn. "You make me feel like an interviewer. But yes, I have more questions. Tell me, what type of life did you live? What was your station in life?"

"My station?" Formosus asked, raising an eyebrow. "I was a slave."

The boy paused, letting the words disappeared into the silence of the evening, which by now had grown quite a bit darker.

Drawing in a quick breath, Formosus went on. "Yes, I was a slave, and I know it may be difficult for you, bastard son of a Roman senator, so used to encountering blood drinkers with similarly aristocratic backgrounds, to comprehend, but I was a slave."

"Do you honestly think I care about your class?" Marius felt himself surprised, for while it was true that many vampires he knew were indeed from aristocratic backgrounds, some, in particular Armand, came from devastating circumstances. He resumed, "I am simply trying to get an idea of how I could have met you."

"I do not think we met, Marius, although I can tell you _think_ we have. Perhaps it was my song that has brought you under this spell but…"

"No, something…" Marius murmured. "But no matter, go on, tell me, what type of slave?" Marius asked matter-of-factly.

"I was a.." Formsosus said, hesitating slightly, "a _delicatus_ , you know, a... body slave, I believe it's called."

Marius nodded, trying to imagine this one as a slave, thinking of the fortune a man must have paid to own such a model of precious youth.

Formosus seemed to catch this thought immediately and gave a sad smile. "Yes, I was expensive. Quite a lot of money was offered for me at various times, but of course my master would never have sold me. I was his _delicatus_. But that is beside the point. I was a body servant and also an... entertainer. My duties were to please my master. To sing. To dance. To place the lute. To write poetry and recite it for his pleasure. It was my duty to please."

_Oh, my beauty, and I'm sure you did that well_ , Marius thought, not caring if the boy caught his words.

Formosus gave a knowing look and suddenly Marius pictured what this boy would have looked like in those days, how his legs would have been uncovered and shapely, how the gentle folds of fabric would have graced his tender form. And he found himself thinking of the varieties of pleasure this particular slave could have provided.

"Yes, how right you are," chimed in this angel with the night sky stretched across his tender chest. "I may have been a slave, but my life was quite pleasant. Only at the very beginning and the very end did I ever know hardship. As I said, my duty was to please and only to please, and that I did very well."

Again, Marius felt himself chastened by the beauty of this youth. Why must he fall in love with their faces so easily? And when would this ever amount to something more than pure pain, this type of adoration?

There was a moment of silence, of stillness, and then Formosus slowly reached out and touched Marius' cheek, caught the single blood tear that had fallen. _So gentle, these hands_ , Marius thought, _so very fine._

"Marius," Formosus said softly, leaning forward, "I do not come to burden you. I do not wish to cause you any pain, although sometimes I have found that this happens despite my best intentions. Truly, I do not have expectations except that I would like to loose some heavy burdens from my back by sharing the knowledge of my life."

"I understand," Marius nodded, still feeling the ache inside.

"As I was saying, I was a slave in the city of Maracalas. Through most of my mortal life, my master was Lucius Sosius Cordatus."

Upon hearing the name, Marius stood up with a start, and backed away slightly, up against the chair.

"What is it?" Formosus cried, also standing.

Marius said nothing at first, but instead turned his eyes upward. After a few moments, he composed himself and sat down. The boy quickly dropped back in his chair.

"Truly, your master was Lucius Sosius Cordatus?"

"Yes, truly."

"Formosus, I did not know your master, not in life, but I have found at least one connection between us."

"A connection? That is what I have been seeking all along."

"I mean I think I may be familiar with some of the details of your story, Formosus. Tell me, your master, Cordatus, he was the creator of the famous Maracalas love poetry, yes?"

Formosus heaved a sigh and, with the expression of someone who has been asked the same question over and over, replied, "So it has been reported in the history books."

"So it has been reported? Formosus, after his death, Cordatus' poems were found and became a classic of Latin poetry! I myself read these very poems to my boys in Venice, to my Amadeo, they were so finely formed, so beautiful."

"Marius, I think perhaps your thought process is lacking here," the boy said in a suddenly teasing voice.

Marius paused. Oh, but he had been so foolish! "I apologize, Formosus. Ttell me yourself about these love poems. Your master was not the author?"

Formosus laughed and made an exultant gesture with his hand. "Ye gods, finally the truth comes out! My master was a great man and a great artist, but he did not write poetry. Those poems were mine. They were left in the villa after I had been taken from him."

"Taken from him?" Marius asked.

"Yes, I'll get to that later," Formsosus said darkly. "As for the poems, after his own... death..." Formosus paused, swallowing these apparently bitter words. "Afterwards his relatives and associates appropriated them and attached his name to them. Of course they all knew the poems were mine, since every one of them knew I was the poet of the house, so to speak. They were loath to let the world that a slave had written these words - about his master no less - and of course there was the typical concern about bringing honor and glory to the family name.

Formosus winked before continuing. "I do find it deeply ironic, however, that you shared these poems with the boys under your care in Venice, with Armand even. From what have read, from I understand of your existence then, your situation with those boys was very much like my situation with my master. He was not a blood drinker, understand, not by any means, but he was a great painter -- odd though it was for a man of his class to paint -- and like you, he made paintings of his favorite."

"A painter. With a favorite." Marius paused and there, in front of him, was the final realization. He knew at last how he recognized this boy's face. And what's more, he could see his memories before him, caught in the powerful storehouse of his mind.

"You have seen them!" Formosus cried, staring at Marius at utter bewilderment. "You have seen the paintings down under the ground!"

Marius nodded uncertainly, still not believing it could be true. The flesh and blood figure before him danced under his eyes and overlapping it, he saw the boy in the now ancient frescoes.

"This… was you?" Marius whispered, almost to himself. His heading was spinning.

The boy nodded slowly, a look of complete amazement taking over. "You saw them. When did you see them? In the vault, the very vault!" He fell back in the chair, seeming almost to be in shock. Marius felt the quickening heart beat.

Strange images flowed out of Formosus, images of those frescoes, by candlelight, by torchlight, by the shockingly bright illumination of modern incandescent lights. And with these images, Marius could not fail to note a message, a great sweep of feeling: _The secret! He has seen the secret!_

Finally the images died away. There was a long moment of silence. Marius slowly rose and settled himself on the arm of Formosus' chair.

He looked down on the beautiful face. "Your master was a great painter. As I said, I never knew him, only his poems, which you now say are actually yours. I saw the paintings he left on the walls of his villa only I didn't know it was his villa. I visited the city sometime in the first millennium. The city was half in ruin and had been abandoned. The flowers of the gardens were overtaking the landscape, burying it in beauty, as it were.

"Contemplating the fate of the Empire, and I suppose civilization and history in general, I wandered among the houses. I must have wandered into your very villa. There was a mosaic in the main area, a mythic scene, half-covered with sand. As I entered the more private chambers, however, I came across frescoes, dozens of them. On every wall, I saw a boy, a beautiful boy with black hair and a fine, aquiline nose. His lips were full and red. He sang, sat and read, stood on one leg singing, held a harp. In his hair were flowers. Such an expression on his face, so warm, to tender, so very knowing!

"Mind you, I had by that time existed in the world for several centuries. I had seen hundreds of ruins, hundreds of old Roman villas. But these works were different, absolutely different. With my vampire eyes, I could see details and expression so subtle that for a moment I almost thought they had been created by another immortal. But they were not, you say?"

Formosus was startled, not expecting the question. "No, no, he was a man, he went out in the sun, he ate, he drank, he lived as a man… and he died." Formosus closed his eyes. Too much pain.

Marius paused, allowing the other time to recover. Finally: "And so, Formosus, I examined these paintings by the light of my lamp. Room to room I went, until finally I noticed a peculiarity in one of the walls. Something told me that there was a hidden passage. I was already deep inside the villa and below ground level to begin with, and so I was puzzled as to where this passage might lead.

"Examining and testing the wall, I discovered a mechanism to open it in the manner it had been designed. I could had broken through the wall easily, but the existence of the frescoes made me desire to be especially careful, reverent almost."

"Oh, thank the gods, that you were so careful, so careful," Formosus sighed. "But go on, excuse me, we will get to that."

Marius nodded. "And so then I entered the passage. At first it was narrow and I thought, perhaps this was only a secret tunnel, an escape into the yard. But then I found myself in a small labyrinth. The ceiling was low and even with my lamp it was dark place. There were dead ends, turns, divisions. To a mortal man, it would have been difficult to navigate.

"As a vampire, it was easy for me, although I could only wonder, and slightly fear, the purpose of such a maze. I scanned the area for signs of other immortals but picked up nothing. I was alone, standing with my lamp. The blood sweat had broken out all over my body. Unsteadily, I headed forward.

"Finally, as you must know, there was an end and there, at the very end, was the secret vault, and I knew what had been concealed.

"There on the walls were more frescoes, but these were not the tame life portraits of the rooms above, these were erotic, and not erotic in the common manner of the time, but erotic in a manner that would be considered modern today.

"There you were, on the wall, naked, performing acts which Romans of course performed but were nevertheless uncommonly found on the wall. Of course, now I understand even more why they were so hidden; not only were they explicit, but the face on the figures was you, absolutely you, and everyone in the villa, everyone who had ever known you, would have known in an instant that this was so.

"In the center of the room was a sleeping palette, or the remains of it, empty, but even with it empty, I could imagine what had taken place in this room, and further, I envisioned the boy on that bed with the master of the house. I hope you're not…"

"Offended? No, no, that was the intention, you were correct, that is as it was…" His voice drifted off, his eyes far away. "Go on," he whispered.

"As I said, I saw the room and imagined how it was, but then I also had another vision of that chamber, not as a bed chamber, but as a death chamber, painted as the Etruscans had painted their tombs. There was no one left in this town, and it seemed to me so sad that this boy was no more, his master was no more, the town was no more.

"Understand, and I think you do, for you have obviously read all the books in which I am mentioned, understand that I did not mourn for the past; I saw history as a process. But standing in that room, I saw the downside of that process, the people left behind, the human death.

"And so I stood in that room and decided to brand the images into my mind. At least one person on earth would remember this boy. I remembered."

Silent tears streamed down Formosus' pristine face, and it was the face of those ancient walls, only bleeding like the statues of the Virgin Mary. Marius felt the tears hot on his own cheeks and tried to quell them so that he could speak.

"Child, how could this be? How? Of all the luck in the world, how?" Marius sobbed. "How could I possibly have been there, seen those images of you, thought of the sadness of your death… and then in fact you weren't dead! How?" Clasping his hands to the sides of his face, he shook his head and closed his eyes in utter bewilderment.

"I don't know, Marius," Formosus whispered. "I don't know, but it makes the hairs stand up on the backs on my arms. Because, Marius, one the final bit of this story is missing, and I think you cannot possibly imagine it."

"Tell me. What came after?" he asked. "What could be more incredible?"

Formosus had grown deadly serious. "Marius, you said you saw that room at first as a love chamber. And then… you saw it as a tomb. Well, Marius, it _was_ a tomb. It was _my_ tomb."

Marius stared incredulously. What could this possibly mean?

"Sometime after you visited, some centuries later, in the year 1000, or very near to that date, I returned to that chamber, where I had spent the greatest hours of my youth, and I sealed myself inside and I remained underground until… last year."

_Last year._ Marius was stunned. This would explain why his accent was so clear, why this creature was so otherworldly, why the very cadence of his voice, his very footfall seemed a remnant of lost ages. _Even in vampire years, 1,000 years is a long time._

"A long time lost," Formosus sighed, catching the thought. "I didn't intend for my time there to last... forever. I had led a rather tumultuous life in my first millennium and finally I had been burned in a fire. I was suffering and felt lost in the world. I wanted to continue, but I needed to rest, to gather my wits, to gain my strength. And just as Lestat did at the end of the 1800s, burying himself under the earth of Cairo, I felt that I needed to, as it were, drop off the face of the earth.

"Unfortunately for me, I was not the strongest, as you say, _vampire_. I was no weak fledgling, having already lived 1,000 years, but nevertheless, after some time had passed - and it seemed to pass in the very blink of an eye - I found I couldn't escape this self-exile from the world. I lost the strength to move, to speak. There was nothing but darkness or else I would have looked upon those paintings. Instead I sang to myself with my inner voice, wrote stories and poetry in my mind, dreamed the god's dreams.

"And of course, I thirsted. I burned. My body withered down to nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet my mind remained. Horrible that this blood of ours can keep us animated even under such circumstances. I hardly drew a breath."

Formosus paused. He looked around, towards the house, then out towards the oaks. "And speaking of taking a breath, it would be good to get up and walk. May we?"

"Yes, of course, the night is fine," said Marius, rising from his perch on the arm of the chair and gently placing his hand on Formosus' bare shoulder. The skin had the cool hardness of the very old.

Formosus turned his head slightly and smiled. "Marius, again I thank you for not killing me as soon as you found me here on your property. Truly, I did not expect to live through the night."

"My dear, I swear you shall never need fear violence from me. You represent something too precious. But let us walk, let me hear the rest."

They stood and walked towards the oaks, slowly, arms at their sides.

"So as I was saying, I couldn't escape, although eventually I wanted to… wanted to almost as much as I wanted the blood of my neighbors above, the peasants who would near as they plowed the land, the children who played among the ruins, the thieves who vainly sought for treasure. More than once mortals ventured into the villa itself and saw the paintings above ground.

"But no one ever discovered the secret passage, and so I remained, still locked into my living death but praying more and more to be discovered, to be released. I must confess, at times I wished for the end of the world - that is the only way I could conceive of to end my suffering. I was nearly mad but never entirely, and for that I am grateful.

"At last, and this was not until a bit over a year ago, I finally received my release. Granted, it was not easy, but, oh, it was blessed. To walk again on this earth, to hear the birds, to see the night sky. And it only could have happened now, at this time, and do you know why?"

"Why?" Marius asked.

"Because of these men, these scientists, who call themselves, using Greek words, _archaeologists!_ They were concerned with the past. The actual truth of the past, not in legends, but the truth of past days.

"Yes, archaeologists came to the villa, which had been examined before of course, and they began to catalog every fresco, one after another. It was to be a very thorough examination.

"I read their thoughts for weeks, they stayed so long. It woke me into nearly full consciousness, bloodless husk that I was. They stayed so long, I learned their language, Italian, as well as some English. I learned to understand these times... at least a little bit. They had a little devices, little machines that talked, modern tools, and of course a different mindset than I had known existed.

"I listened and learned for weeks and then, finally, they discovered something. An irregularity in the wall that they had thought was caused by water damage turned out to be some sort of door. They brought in a man with another special machine and the machine could see through the wall and they knew there was a passageway.

"This happened during the daylight hours, but understand that they were so near and to my mind, sleeping was so much like being awake, when I woke that evening I was not surprised to hear men in the labyrinth. And when they came to the very vault, I had a plan to get myself out of that tomb and into the world.

"It would be slow and require great strength of will, but I decided that I would need to attack these men over and over again, taking only a little blood each time, so that I could grow strong slowly and they would not die at once. I had no hopes of having the strength of holding down and killing one of these men; I was simply too weak.

"So when these men came into the vault, they did not see a shriveled up corpse, but a vision. And you know the vision because you walk beside that vision. They saw a vision on an ancient Roman boy, lying in a chamber of matching frescoes and beeswax candles.

"Just as I did earlier this evening with you, I sent my song into their hearts. And my song was pure, so absolutely pure, having been distilled in my heart for so many centuries.

"Even the hardest, most cynical, most remote of these men was overtaken by this vision - it appealed to their passion for the past, I suppose - and using every shred of my power, I induced the men closer. They were caught in my dream and I drew them to me, oh, so close, and with my leather lips and claw-like, weightless hands I clamped onto them, one by one, and took the blood at long, long last.

"Need I even mention the nature of that desperate feast, the near stinging pain of that drink? It was the bounteous harvest after the decade of famine, only it was a millennium of famine, a millennium of drought, and at that moment I considered that even if things went wrong and I didn't make it out of the tomb, my life would have come to a fortunate end.

"There were four men, and after the first round, having taken a bit from each over them, I was feeling remarkably better, but of course my veins were ablaze with thirst. My heart wanted to take every one of those men, every one, but I told myself, no, these men were my saviors! They had rescued me and would be rescuing my villa, my master's beautiful paintings.

"And so I had another round, but was careful that none of the men were brought close to death. I sealed the wounds on their necks with a bit of blood, the old trick, and then I left them. Of course I filled their heads with more visions so things would make sense when they awoke from their dream. Interestingly, afterward I read an article in a newspaper about an 'incident' at the ruins of Maracalas. Apparently they suspected that the 'tomb' had been booby-trapped with some sort of hallucinogenic drugs!

"In any case, before I left, you can imagine that I set my eyes on those secret paintings. Oh, but I had so far to go until I was once again that beautiful! I was worse than a living skeleton as I left that chamber. I was still hardly able to stand, having had only the fill, in sum, of one man, but it was enough to propel me out of the labyrinth, up the stairway, into the villa, where at long last, the roof having given way even before I went to rest, I saw the night sky. That the moon still hung in the sky seemed a miracle to me.

"As quickly as I could, I made my way out into the countryside - and oh, how unchanged it seemed to me then! - and soon I found the type of men I was looking for, typical evildoers, although I found their minds so alien, so full of modern notions that made no sense to me. But no matter, I was starved and the blood was the blood. I took six men that night, if you can believe it."

Marius nodded. They had come to stand before the greatest of all the oaks. Formosus set himself down on a large, gnarled root. Idly, Marius wondered what year the acorn that formed the tree had taken root. Surely this beautiful one, this sweet singer was still under the earth. Where had _he_ been? Was he painting in Venice? Tending the Mother and the Father in their shrine? Had this city even existed in those days?

Formosus sighed. "I think you can imagine the rest. My amazement, my delight, my confusion, as I emerged from that cellar, into this modern world. The last time I had been in the world, it was in the midst of what, I am told, is now called the Dark Ages. What an appropriate name, at least as I experienced them. Dark indeed.

"But now, all that is gone, and what isn't gone? Mostly it is the _people_ who remain, are so unchanged, even as they have created worlds upon worlds, new languages, forms of art, tools, philosophies, religions. The soul remains, does it not?"

"Yes, it does, my friend, it does," Marius chuckled. He felt the long dialogue was coming to a close, the story nearly over.

"Oh, and did I mention, yes, of course, this is obvious, that I found the books, the _Chronicles_ , translated into Italian no less, and I read every one of them? The first memoir, _Interview with the Vampire_ , made little sense to me, as it was entirely too specific to one person and one age, but the second, Lestat's autobiography, that was a shock to me. And when I read the story... of our origins, it was a mystery solved at last.

"So much of the story amazed me, touched me, but really, the most incredible aspect was, of course, the notion of you, Marius, as a _Roman_. And the way you described to Lestat the apocalypse that had struck the world of blood drinkers at the time of our making, that explained my very existence in the world. You see, the being who made me... was one of the crippled beings like the God of the Grove that made you, like the burnt ones you encountered in Alexandria.

"Briefly, let me tell you that it was in Greece that it happened, and I was there because that is where I had been taken by the evil man who had abducted me from my master and taken me there. It was after I had run away from that man. I wanted to run all the way back to Italy, I swear it. Imagine me, all of 18, trying to make my way back to Italy on my own!

"I didn't make it. I was captured by one of those same horrible burnt creatures and afterward, I was even imprisoned as a kind of God. Only briefly, however, for despite it all, I could think of nothing but running back with inhuman speed to my master, my master, and so finally I escaped.

"I don't know if I wanted only to see him or to talk with him or to make him what I had become, but in any event it didn't matter. When I arrived at the villa, he was dead. He had killed himself, months earlier, even though there were those who had told him, roughly, 'He was only a young slave, you can find another boy.'

"I learned, as I hid the shadows of the town to pick up the story, that he had killed himself from sorrow. From sorrow! Afterward they had found poems in a cabinet, the most beautiful love poems. Miraculous, absolutely miraculous - he had been a secret poet! Of course, of course, the facts be damned! Finally it was too much to bear and I went away to begin my new life, the only one that I knew having been burnt away.

"There is much I could tell you about how I spent the intervening millennium before I shut myself up in that tomb. I wandered all over the Empire, Europe, Russia, Asia. As the centuries wore on and the church became more powerful, I took up a habit of collecting lost Roman texts and creating from them the most exquisite illuminated manuscripts. For the sake of scholarly preservation, I left them at the gates of monasteries as a gift. I believe the Pope has these books in Rome to this day! To this day, I still hold no allegiance to that Christian faith, but at the time, the notion of those monasteries as a preserver of learning and history, it was truly holy.

"But back to the general scheme. Being such a 'boy,' it was hard for me to, as you advised Lestat, live out 'one human lifetime,' to join the mortal stream, but I did the best I could. I posed as a prince in several lands. I became a traveling troubadour. Once I even posited myself as a type of high class prostitute in my very own house of pleasure. I admit I didn't 'put out' much, but I had other talents, of course.

"So many lives I lived. But eventually I grew sickened by the ways of the world, in particular the ridiculous thinking on the part of the 'learned' of the churches. I'm sure you understand. As the Roman world finally disintegrated into ruins, the plagues came, the darkness came, the world seemed cursed. Finally there was an incident with a man who somehow had guessed what I was and, after attempting to kill me in various ways, burned me as I slept.

"Although it wasn't a devastating burn, it was enough to damage me, enough to make me want to bury myself and recover, withdraw to my tomb, the secret chamber, and slumber in the very spot where I had spent my happiest days. It seems foolish to me now, but in a way, I wanted to return to those lost days, that way of life that was gone. I wanted to return to my childhood."

Formosus paused, and Marius took the moment to sit down beside him.

Finally: "But back to my original thread, that I found those books, the whole series, and I read them and I was amazed. _Queen of the Damned_. Thank goodness for Lestat's great need to share his life with the world - how else would I have come to understand those terrible dreams! Suddenly it all made sense, the entire history of our kind! I had always been alone in the past and there was much I did not know. And these books allowed me to learn what it is to survive as the creature that I am. They were guidebooks to help me understand my position in this new world.

"Speaking of which, after a year had passed and I had grown to feel I understood at least something of the age and could function among the mortal throng, I decide that it was time to come to the New World and seek you. My heart burned to meet you, truly, it burned! I knew you would _understand_.

"The only hard part, besides working up the courage, was getting here. I think I could perhaps have willed myself here and flown, but of course I wouldn't know where I was going, I had no sense of the world as a great round orb, I have no idea of distance, and the entire notion was frightening, despicably inhuman. I thought about taking an airplane but couldn't bear the notion of such a machine at such a speed, high over the great ocean.

"Believe it or not, finally I took a ship, a great 'luxury liner' like the one Lestat and David went on to hunt the "body thief." It was not my ideal environment but at least I understood it and felt safe. My rooms were secure and I had no real need to feed, I could wait, and I did wait, all the way until New York. And oh, that city was the greatest shock I hope I will ever receive, so devastatingly staggering was it to my sheltered senses!

"Since then I have been making my way south. I think a few other vampires, even ones you know, may have sensed my presence, but they thought me a pure rogue, one of those stragglers who escaped the last apocalypse . So they pretended to ignore me, although I believe they found me terribly attractive. Lestat in particular seemed almost about to come after me, to tell you the truth, but his impulse was too slow and I ran away before he could get to me.

"I finally made it here a few hours before dawn. I cloaked myself as best I could, as not to be discovered, and I hid myself in a house next door, believe it or not, so that I could come to you at the earliest hour and sing to you, even if the song was to be my last."

Finally, the story was over. Off in the distance, a church bell rang.

Marius was silent. _Too incredible_ , he was thinking, but he knew it was true. And he also knew that this evening was more than he had ever bargained for.

"Formosus," he said, forming the name tenderly. "Formosus." His arms drew themselves around the boy's fine but well-muscled shoulders. He breathed into his ear: "Formosus. How beautiful is your name, and what I owe you for what you have just shared. I wish I had as much to tell you - damn Lestat and Pandora and Armand, they've gone and told my stories all themselves!

"But no matter. I would like to have more time to get to know you. Because I would like to travel back in time now and then, only now and then, and I would like to go there with you. Another reason is that I love you. _Love you._ I cannot resist you and you know my history, I believe love is necessary and when I love, it is powerful and all consuming. I believe you could be my love."

And forming his lips carefully, Marius pressed a kiss onto the full, red lips of the living, breathing, ancient fresco who had come to life in his very arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius and the new boy get acquainted and Marius feels a bit drunk. Is it the wine or true love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

The silence that followed lasted some time. The moon moved steadily forward in its arc over the New Orleans sky. Formosus had dropped down onto the grass and was lying on his side, head propped up on one arm. Marius was seated as before, on the roots of the ancient oak.

From Formosus Marius could pick up only the barest outline of thoughts, a tiny glimmer of communication from a journey back in time. The youth's eyes were lingered on the soft grass, his right arm stroking the smooth, tiny shafts one by one in a gesture of habit. Marius could pick up no real words until suddenly, distinctly, he caught the words, " _O Magister!_ "

_Master_. What an extraordinary man Cordatus must have been to merit the affections of this one! He contemplated. Those two must have had only a decade together before it came to an end, and 2,000 years later, this slave is still thinking about him. How is it possible for slavery reach this far from the grave?

"No, Marius," the boy say suddenly, looking up, his lips frowning slightly. "No, it is not as you suppose. I do not dwell on my master as if he were here in the world. I do not consult him in the operation of my life. I do not do his bidding. I pray to him, yes, but in a way, I know am really only praying for my own comfort. I find myself praying to my ideal of him, taken from that time long ago."

Marius nodded and looked sad. "Pity that I never met him, I suppose. But if you have read of my history, you realize how busy I was at that time, either compiling my history or finally, entering into this world of eternal life and death."

"Yes, I understand," Formosus said quickly, glancing quickly down to the grass, which he still worked with his hand. He looked back up after a moment. "But tell me, Marius, do you understand how I can find myself going back in time, over and over, and asking myself these critical questions about my life, falling back again and again to consider certain people, circumstances? I had thought that these obsessions were only part of my death chamber dreams, but even now I find myself falling back to old times, both from my earliest days to the days later on."

Marius considered this. "You mustn't worry, you are not alone in this. Do you think I have forgotten about Rome? I certainly have not forgotten about Pandora or my Amadeo or any other immortal. I recall every era in which I have lived, every home I have kept, and so many instances, circumstances, conversations, I sometimes wonder how all the information is being retained. Is it being stored in my brain or my very spirit?

"And, of course, I find these items in my past coming up again and again. I consider what I might have done differently, chances lost. This despite knowing that in the end it cannot be changed, can only be lived with. But it is a habit we all share, this dwelling on the past.

"What is important, as you must have learned by now, is that we not _live_ in the past, that we recognize our lives in the present, that we think to the future, have hope. The future has not been written and we can make it ours if only we open our eyes and force ourselves not to cower in the corners of our past failures or even our past triumphs. We must truly live!"

With this last line, Marius suddenly stood to his feet and looked down at Formosus, still playing with the grass. Giving him a playful tap on the chin with his foot, he leaned over and offered his hand. "Up with you, _Serviculus!_ "

Formosus clasped onto the powerful hand and let himself be pulled to his feet, chuckling. " _Serviculus!_ Ha, I wonder if there is even a word for that in the common languages today. Is there?"

"Hmmm, I don't know. I think you would simply say 'little slave,' at least in English. But never mind, I enjoy speaking Latin with you and I know you mustn't yet be terribly good with modern languages as of yet, correct?"

"I have no idea, but I've done well enough to talk my way across Europe and then travel from New York all the way down to New Orleans, wasn't I? I admit that half the time I simply repeated what the person before me in line had said and quite a few times I simply shot my thoughts straight into mortals' heads and made them think I had spoken."

Marius had to laugh. He pictured Formosus at the ticket counter buying his translatlantic tickets.

Formosus sighed. "So many nuances in these languages, and English, it is absolutely confusing to me, this mixture of old and new, the Latin, the French, the barbarian German, and then bits from every other languages. Truly, is that language not the Roman Empire of languages?"

"Yes, I suppose I see what you mean. But let's not stand about all night talking like a couple of university professors, students of the 'Classics' or linguistic analysis. Let's go back to the house, I'll let you in. I think perhaps now we can go on simply talking in the day-to-day sense, now that, I trust, all the very deepest, most urgent conversations have already taken place."

" _Vivo!_ " Formosus cried, abruptly breaking Marius' hold on his arm and skipping merrily off across the lawn towards the house, finally picking up enough speed to turn a few somersaults. " _Vivacitas!_ " he cried triumphantly as he landed near the garden patio where they had sat earlier in the evening. _Good to see he's not all song and story_ , Marius reflected as he began his own walk over that way. Somersaults were certainly not his style and never had been.

 

* * *

After unlocking a set of French doors and stepping inside, Marius turned and beckoned Formosus to follow. The youth came forward and through the doors but with a certain look of uncertainly on his face.

"It's all right for you to come in, you know," Marius said with a wink.

"I know, I know you're letting me in, it's just that…" his voice trailed off. "It's that it's been a long time since anyone's invited me into their home like this… and certainly this is the first time a fellow immortal has ever done so."

Marius studied Formosus, taking him in from head to foot. "You truly were alone in those years, weren't you?"

Formosus nodded.

"And no fledglings? No children?"

"No," said Formosus quietly, eyes cast to the floor.

Marius didn't know what to make of this. "Did you ever encounter other vampires?"

"Yes, yes, I ran across them from time to time..." his voiced trailed off and he appeared to think. "But I suppose I had bad luck, bad timing perhaps. In the beginning I avoided them all, it seemed only to be those blackened creatures and I could not stand the thought of them. Then there were the very old ones and they would not be bothered with me. Finally the young ones, the new ones… well, so many went into the flames. Finally, horror of horrors, those Satan-serving covens began to spring up and of course I wouldn't stand that nonsense for a second, even long enough to rescue the lost."

"And why was that?"

"You know perfectly well. I knew from the moment I was made that I was the same man I had always been, that I retained the same capacity for good and that my soul was in the same place as before. I didn't see myself as damned and I certainly wasn't going to lock myself in some dark cellar about it… Well, at least not under a cemetery. And believe me, I wasn't about to shun churches or live in fear of the images of some resurrected God that was not my God in the first place."

_This is a fierce one_ , Marius thought. He found himself wondering how he would get along with Lestat. _Certainly willful, isn't he?_

Finally he decided he'd had enough of this seriousness. "But come, let's get on with thing, let's talk as friends. I will stop trying to be your interviewer and you will stop these dramatic monologues, yes?"

"That's fair. Can we walk around a bit? I'd like to see your house!"

"Certainly, come this way…"

 

* * *

As they began to walk through the house, Formosus was clearly delighted by what he saw, turning his head all around to take everything in. His hands went out to touch the furniture, the curtains, even the floors. _Taking in the new millennium_ , Marius thought.

"Yes, exactly. There are still so many materials, patterns, styles I have not seen. It'd like I'm reading a book composed of words I know but a grammar I don't understand. Some things are the same, while other things… I have no idea what they are any more!" He thew up his hands. "But even so, this house is a bit different; I feel like I understand this place better than some other places I have visited so far."

As they passed into the library, Formosus spun around in surprise. "Oh, Marius, this is wonderful!" He walked over to the shelves and with preternatural speed began to run through the titles with his eyes. He went through the shelves excitedly, mostly just scanning, at times pulling out books and opening them for a closer look.

"I must confess I have been struggling to re-familiarize myself with books, the writing has changed and there are so many 'fonts' and 'typefaces' and not all of them are easy to read. Imagine, the very first printing machine was created centuries ago but until last year, I had never seen the revolution produced by this device! And look at this! This writer, people still know him? And this one? Oh, what is this about?" He continued to rummage through the titles at breakneck speed.

Marius stood back, letting himself become enraptured once again by the beauty and grace before him. He enjoyed having someone go through his collection; as always, books were the basis of his world and every item represented an item of personal interest.

"You know," he said. "If you go to that shelf behind you, yes, up on the bottom left, second shelf from the left, I think you will find a volume of interest."

Formosus bent down, scanned, and pulled out a small, leather-bound volume. Holding the book out in front, he opened to the title page.

"It is…" his voice trailed off almost before it had started.

"Yes, it is."

"And you have had this how long?"

"Oh, actually that particular copy, not very long. My library has been diminished or destroyed more than once, as you've read. But I always replace the books I like, that being one of the books I like"

Formosus looked thoughtful. "Perhaps I did not walk unseen through history," he said quietly.

"Formosus, people are still reading your words today. I wouldn't be surprised if someone had made one of your poems into once of those modern greeting cards you buy in the store."

Formosus laughed. "Oh, now I can see we're becoming friendly, you're teasing me."

"You have that right. But seriously, you realize that your words are still read even in these times, even if people think they're reading someone else's words. And it's not as if the author assigned is some random person you don't know, correct?"

"No, no, you're right. I just have always been ambivalent as far as the switch that was pulled on me. On the one hand, I'm glad my name never came out into the open and no one ever tried to research my life (what a strange ending that search would have had!) but on the other hand, these were poems from me to him, not from him to me. But let us put these topics behind us. I don't need to read this book now, I read it in my head for a thousand years."

"You don't say…" Marius murmured, stepping over and clasping Formosus' hand. "All right, I think there are more things to be seen than this library."

"Yes, of course," Formosus said, following Marius down a hallway. "This is a very nice home you have, very, as I said, very much more comfortable than other places I have been. It is modern but at the same time, I can understand it."

Finally they had stopped at a small door in the wall. Marius opened the door, bent over, and pulled out a bottle of wine.

Formosus eyed the wine curiously. "Wine?"

"Yes, I thought it might be something you could appreciate. There was never a Roman who didn't enjoy wine, isn't that true?"

"Yes, but…" Formosus waved his hand confusedly.

"Oh, but dear, I don't mean for us to _drink_ the wine, I meant only that we might pour some out and smell its sweetness. It's something I like to do from time to time. I keep a stock of good red wine on hand at all times. It's not a detail mentioned in those books; it's too minute a detail and none of the writers - except Pandora, of course - ever had a surplus of interest in my tastes as a Roman."

"I see. And where are the glasses?"

"This way," said Marius, gesturing down the hall.

Marius stood at the door to his personal "bedroom." Although he never actually slept in this room, he liked to lie down and for certain reading and moods, it offered the perfect amount of comfort. As he took out the wine glasses from a cabinet next to the bed, he suddenly found himself thinking of another bedroom he had enjoyed once. That great velvet bed in the Venetian palazzo. And the way he spent his time there… and what company he kept.

Marius turned around as he poured the wine. He handed the first glass to Formosus, who took it with grace, eyes full of wonder. Marius realized he had probably never seen wine in a such a pure crystal goblet before. Pouring the second glass, he left the wine bottle on top of the cabinet and took the glass for himself.

He look down at the bed and saw the velvet. His memories rushing to the fore, he allowed himself to slip down comfortably amongst the pillows and coverlets. Not a drop of wine was spilled.

Formosus held the glass to his face, the bottom edge resting on his lip, his noise angled down slightly to draw out the fine scent. With a quick motion, he tipped the glass up and took a quick sip, just enough to splash his tongue, which darted out to moisten his lips. Glistening and even redder than before, his mouth was the image of a rose.

Marius brought his own glass up and took a sip. "Very fine," he said, afterward inclining the glass in the boy's general direction. _Oh, I can feel a spell coming on, I can feel that my guard is falling, I feel as if I have drunk this wine…_

He stopped the dizziness and focused on Formosus. "Do you see what you do to me?"

Formosus laughed. "Marius, I swear, I am not doing anything. I am not trying to cast a spell or mystify you. I am not trying to seduce you, I swear it… although I am opposed to the idea if it were mutual."

Marius was startled. "You are not… My, this evening has progressed. But I must confess that I… am very strongly… attracted to you… in ever way, actually. In every possible way."

He reached out and pressed his hand gently on the tender cheek. As he did so, he felt a touch of the magic he had felt the moment he had set eyes on the boy amidst the trees. He felt a great outpouring of love.

"I do not know you very well," Formosus whispered, "but I must say that I love you very much. Just as I hoped you would, you listen, you _understand_. But more than that, you do not frighten me. With you, I feel I could be close. With you, I feel I could be safe."

_Safe._ Marius let his eyes wander about the room and then back to the heavenly face. _I feel safe, too_ , he thought. _This boy is safe. He is my very own. I have not made him and there is no pain there, no history. He does not hate me. In fact he seems to love me and I feel it. And he is very beautiful, every ideal come true and then some._

Marius tugged playfully at a tuft of the black hair. "All right, then feel free to stay here with me. And relax, you will indeed be safe here. Lay back and enjoy you wine."

Formosus laughed softly. "I shall."

He had another sip and finally set the glass aside. Leaning back onto the pillows, he stretched himself out and began to hum a song, another bit of sweetness from the past.

Marius put down his wine and laid himself down at full length, his cheek against the other's shoulder.

Suddenly the boy tensed and raised his head.

"What is it?" asked Marius, just as he caught the thought.

He turned his head and there, looking tiny and with a look of perfect shock on his face, stood Armand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius has some explaining to do to Armand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

Almost as soon as he had appeared, Armand had turned from the door and begun to retreat slowly down the hall.

"Amadeo!" Marius cried, reaching out and struggling as in a dream to free himself of the velvet bedcovers, the great down pillows. "Amadeo, don't go!"

Useless. Armand continued down the hall as if he had not heard. Time to get up and make his apologies, always these...

But wait! Formosus was calling, in his silent voice, and Armand, already out of sight, had finally stopped, although how Marius knew this he wasn't certain since Armand hardly ever made a sound when he walked.

"Amadeo, Armand, angel, don't go! Do you hear me? Do you hear my voice? I know you do, and you would hear me, although perhaps you fear me, hate me, wonder, who is this boy, this creature, he that lies in bed with my Master?"

Formosus paused, slid out of the bed, and walked over to the door.

"He loves you, Amadeo, and neither I nor anyone in this universe, perverse and black as it may be, can ever change that. He loves you and his heart is filled with you. Please come back. If your Master could call to you, he would, and he would beg you to come back. Will you?"

With that, Formosus took a step back and stood, hands at his sides.

Marius held his breath. In his long life, he experienced much. Between Pandora, Amadeo, Lestat and the others he had certainly gone through more than his share of what humans of this age called "drama." Yet at that moment, it occurred to him that he had never been in a situation quite like this one. This had been quite a night!

Armand appeared at the door. A look passed between the two ancient boys and perhaps there was a communication of which Marius was not aware.

And then, turning again towards the bed, Formosus began to sing: 

> _In my heart I dance_  
>  A dance around he  
> Who is most blessed  
> Most fine, gifted  
> By all the gods.  
> 
> 
> _With stately grace_  
>  A wondrous eyes  
> He paints the walls  
> With wondrous worlds  
> Of love and beauty.

Marius wished there had been a lute. Armand merely stood, staring, his mouth slightly open, a thousand questions on his lips.

"Do you recognize it, Armand? Those are the words of Lucius Sosius Cordatus. I used to read to you from a book of his poems when we were..."

"I remember," Armand said, still in state of shock. "I remember everything clear down to the last detail. Ask David, to whom I recited my memoirs.." He paused. "If I had no memory, why did I nearly just walk away from upon seeing you here in your bed with this... stranger?"

"Amadeo, you must relax. You are standing next to the author of those very poems, and it is not Lucius Sosius Cordatus."

Armand managed to look even more shocked, more confused. He took a step backward.

"He is not. And you are telling me then that all along you read those poems to me and those poems were not by this ancient Roman by but by this vampire I find in your house tonight? Is this an old fledgling of yours, returning to the nest at last?"

"No, Amadeo, no. I understand your confusion - I'm confused by it myself, I must admit - but there is an explanation."

"Hush, Marius, let me settle things," Formosus broke in, reaching out for Armand's shoulders and directing him toward to bed. Armand allowed himself to be moved and finally took a spot near the foot of the bed.

Stilling holding Armand by the shoulders, Formosus looked down and said simply, "Do not fear that your Master has lied or disrespected you. He has not. I tell you that I am merely an old love your master never knew, never even met, until tonight. The story will come to you soon enough, but for now, know that I do not arrive to separate you two. I of all people know a Master and his boy should never be separated." His eyes met Marius' gaze with a brief look of understanding.

Armand remained silent looking up to the boy who stood before him and then over to Marius. Finally: "Then it is safe to bring my Sybelle and my Benji into the house? I made them wait in the garden when I sensed there was someone else here... someone whose presence I did not recognize."

"Yes," said Marius, relieved at last. "Yes, of course, bring them in and they will be safe as always."

Armand rose to stand, gracefully shrugging of Formosus' hands and walking towards the door.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "I'll be back."

* * *

Marius let himself once again fall back amongst the pillows.

"You realize you have complicated my life extraordinarily," he sighed.

"Yes, I see that. I hope you aren't angry I came."

"Angry? Oh, no, never... But I still wish.. but never mind. You did a marvelous job of sealing that last rupture."

Formosus laughed. "I simply would not have the two of you go on in this battle. Armand may be healed now that he has been reborn and has these two fledglings to be with, but even now he feels the old pain."

"As do I. How is it that 700 years later his every word hearkens me back and back to those ever-so-fleeting years we had in Italy?" Marius turned on his side, suddenly looking uncharacteristically helpless and sad.

"It's what we talked about earlier Marius. We mustn't live in the past, we must live in the present and look towards the future. The whole book of our lives has not been written, true? Do not fall into the trap of believing that every pain lasts forever, that every wound is an open wound. Let the past be healed and begin today."

Marius felt himself warmed by the boy's words, the perfectly elegant Latin. Had he ever known anyone so eloquent, so sweetly gentle with words, so perfectly on target? If he had, he couldn't remember their name now.

Quickly he looked up. Here was Armand with his loved ones.

"Oh, Armand, you didn't tell us there was another one!" Benji cried, jabbing Armand playfully in the rips. "You didn't tell us!"

Armand looked down and shook his head, exasperated.

"Excuse me," Benji said, all at once more serious, "but you, the strange vampire, are you young? As young as we are? I have never seen you before and I think you are very beautiful."'

Formosus laughed and drifted a few steps closed. "Young? No, my child, I am as old as Marius, though like Amadeo, I look like I was born yesterday." He laughed again. "But I was not and even you were not, wise young thing that you are."

Formosus turned his eyes to examine Sybelle. He heard the sound of music wash from her mind and smiled. Drawing his hand to his mouth, he blew her a kiss.

There was a tiny laugh. She had caught the kiss. No words were spoken.

"Pardon me, Marius," he said, not bothering to turn around his head. "I was wondering if it would be possible to step out for a bit. I would like to hear Sybelle play this instrument of hers. I am sure she and Sybelle could keep an idea on me."

Marius nodded and waved him on. "Yes, of course."

Formosus, Benji and Sybelle passed out of the room and Armand remained.

"Please stay," Marius whispered. "Please stay and let us talk." 

* * *

Armand came to the end of the bed and seated himself without a sound. Marius remained as he was. From the living room came the first notes of the piano.

"Amadeo," Marius whispered, "I know you believe I have gone wrong here, committed some crime of disloyalty against you, but I swear it is not true. If you let me explain -"

He was interrupted by a small, choking cry. It came from Armand.

"When I saw you in this bed, thought... I thought back and back. I thought that someone you had found a way to..." His voice faded and died.

"Don't say it, my love. You walked in on a moment difficult to explain. But let me try."

Marius told Armand of how he had awoken earlier that evening, of the spell that had captured him. He old him how Formosus had appeared among the trees, how they had talked together in the garden. As he repeated the story, Armand's face was unreadable, but when he finally finished, Armand turned, his face a mask of dazed wonder.

"Who could have imagined it," he said slowly. "An interesting story left in the world. Our kind had begun to bore me. And then in comes this creature who slept for a thousand years to finally rise like Sleeping Beauty and plant a kiss on his new Master. I mean no disrespect, of course, it is only a summary of the facts."

"Of course."

Armand knit his brow. "But one question. Again, please forgive me, but how do you know all of this is true?"

"Amadeo, that which Formosus knows, he could not know unless he was there. That was his face on the walls of that Roman villa. The song he sang to me was an ancient lullaby, written long before songs were written down. And Amadeo, you didn't notice his manner of speaking?"

"That Latin!" Armand gasped. "Why… I hadn't even noticed it per se but, yes, of course, he only speaks the ancient Latin. He even spoke it to Benji!"

"And Benji understood it only because Formosus is quite gifted with his silent voice."

"Extraordinary." A pause. "And now what will happen?"

"I don't know, but first and foremost, he will be staying here in this house. I believe he is sorely in need of, for wont of a better term, some acclimating."

" _Acclimating?_ " Armand asked, raising an eyebrow.

Marius sat up, suddenly seeming a bit more like his usual self, the teacher, the mentor, the scholar.

"Yes, Amadeo," he said earnestly. "Think on it. A thousand years. How much has he missed? The Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the Industrial Revolution, the endless wars, changes in fashion, the development of modern languages, the invention of the printing press! And this isn't even to mention to 20th century, during which some of the most startling changes have taken place! You must agree that we simply can't expect him to plunge into the midst of this modern day life without some help. He barely speaks English!"

Armand laughed softly and appeared to reflect on this. "Yes, of course, now I see what you mean. I remember coming out to face the world in Paris in the 1790s… absolutely terrifying! After only 300 years, it seemed so much had changed and it was hard on me, so hard, and that was when I had prowled the streets of Paris every night for centuries and knew at least superficially what was happening around me. Formosus lay underground in an isolated crypt. Yes, now I see, and I agree, we must help, and really we must be sure that the shock is not too great."

"Yes, and we must also be careful to let the world ruin him. I would like for him to remain pure, fresh, just as he is now. In a way, he is like an artifact, not unlike the ruins of Pompeii, I suppose, to employ a tired metaphor, and like Pompeii, he needs to be preserved. It would be a tragedy for him to lose that accent."

Marius smiled and leaned back on his arms. Yes, that accent that brought him back and back. He wondered if Armand even guessed.

Armand was quiet. With liquid grace, he reached out and laid his hand on Marius' knee. Looking into the eyes of his former Master, he saw a look he hadn't seen since… Had he ever seen it? Marius must be in love, he thought, but perhaps this is a new kind of love. Was this a love of equals?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formosus, Armand and Benji hit the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

When they entered the living room, Marius and Armand saw exactly the scene they had expected. Sybelle was at the piano and Formosus stood beside her, his head cocked to one side, listening to the extraordinary sound. Benji was curled up in an armchair reading.

Armand walked up and without a word, took the book in his hand. Lucius Sosius Cordatus. He smiled, returned the book and patted Benji on the head.

Benji looked up. "I admit I can't even read this, but I saw it out on the shelf and started to look at it, I don't know why. It sounds like the language Formosus spoke to me in the bedroom. Tell me," he said, gesturing emphatically first to Marius, then to the book, "would it be possible for you to teach me to read this language? Latin?"

Marius laughed. Unusual how much he had laughed tonight, he thought suddenly. "Yes, Benji, of course, Latin is my first language." Even after he had spoken he still felt like laughing.

Formosus looked up from the piano and turned.

Slowly, concentrating as he spoke in halting, heavily accented English, "Possible… I… study… the language of Britannia?"

"You want to learn English?" Benji asked excitedly, putting down his book and jumping up from his chair. "I can help you with that! I learned English not too long ago, but I am good! And you know what would be a great idea?" A wink to Armand, and then he continued: "How about we go shopping? I've been wanting to go shopping."

Formosus smiled and spoke in Latin: "How kind of you to want to help me in this way, even go out with me. You must excuse me, however, but I believe I may be too much of a burden for you." He looked down, seeming somewhat embarrassed. "I must confess that in large part I am quite lost in some of the ways of the modern world."

"Which is why we're going to take you shopping!" Armand exclaimed, immediately all business. "Marius, Sybelle, care to join us?"

Sybelle, lost in her music, only shook her head.

Marius looked thoughtful for a moment. "Much as I would like to join you, I think I will remain here and… collect myself. So much has happened tonight!"

Formosus nodded. "All right," he said in English, using a tone that made Marius chuckle. "Then I will go. But trust that I will return."

* * *

Armand knew where to go right away. He knew which shops were still open and which could easily be made to be "open." He had thick wads of cash and credit cards besides. He way going to enjoy this little outing, if only because it was so seldom that he carried out a favor for Marius. And anyway, hadn't he always loved shopping for Daniel, for Sybelle, for Benji?

For his part Formosus seemed content, enjoying himself as Benji pumped him for information on life in the times of the ancient Romans. Had they really be that fond of baths? What did people like to eat? Did ancient Romans curse? Did they really believe in all those old gods?

Formosus answered all these questions patiently, painfully constructing the English sentences, occasionally looking to Armand for help, to which Armand would respond by setting the Latin into English or, if all else failed, taking guesses at the meaning until he hit on it. He also found that he could guess words on his own simply by changing them slightly to use modern English endings. At times the results of this method were comical, but for the most part he was able to get his message across.

In the stores, Formosus behaved as if he was visiting a museum. He seemed to find the most extraordinary items fascinating. The modern materials, let alone their shape, seemed to mesmerize him.

It was clear from the start, however, that there would be some difficult with regard to finding the "proper" clothes. Armand and Benji brought in all manner of shirts, pants, and suits - silk, wool, synthetic, blue, black, red, purple, casual, formal - but to no avail. Formosus was very particular and kept saying, "No, no, no."

Finally he had to break into Latin: "Can't you understand? I want my clothing to be loose and full… like this!" He sent a mental image of himself during Roman times, mixed up with some fantasies and some later styles. "Do you understand this? These styles you keep showing me do not suit me. They hearken to times that have no meaning to me and are too constricting, simply too tight, too form-fitting. I need styles that are ancient, comfortable."

Armand suddenly had an image of just how handsome Formosus could look in some closely cut velvet, but he kept the image to himself. Give him what he wants, at least at first, he thought.

Finally they began to have more success. In an African clothing shop, there were ankle-length cotton tunics and golden bangles. In a New Age jewelry shop, Formosus picked up a silver arm band in the shape of a snake. It looked very Roman, its head set with onyx stones.

Using the fine art of persuasion, Armand was able to bend him a bit, finding clothes that were post-Medieval was not specific enough to "modern" times to challenge Formosus' ideas. He found a loose "Renaissance" style blouse, velvet leggings, and finally, in a stroke of blessed good luck, a violet cape of fine spun wool and cashmere. Formosus loved it.

"I feel like an emperor wearing this, you know," he laughed as they finished up their shopping and headed home.

* * *

Marius heard Benji's laugh from the yard and was glad to know the trio had returned. After they had left, he had been beset by worry. What if something happened to them? What if something went wrong? This worry had no real grounds and seem to stem solely from a feeling of protectiveness with regard to Formosus. Finally he quit himself of it; after all, Formosus had made it through two thousand years completely on his own, he could certain manage the streets of New Orleans with Armand and Benji.

Sybelle was still playing and so he had taken a seat and read a bit of the poetry. How many times had he read this book, he asked himself, and when had he ever read it and known the true voice behind it? He had wondered about other books, what secrets they hid.

Afterward he had gone about his usual evening activities, reading the newspapers delivered during the day, watching the television news program he had set the machine to record, tending to the garden, cutting flowers and setting them in vases throughout the house.

Sybelle had come to the end of her playing finally and they had spoken for some time. She wanted to know about the new visitor, and Marius had told her. Unlike Armand or Benji, she wasn't overly curious, but she thought she should at least know something.

"He loves your music, Sybelle," Marius told her.

"I know," she replied, her eyes far away. "I felt it. Did you know, as I played for him, he sent me the most interesting images. I think the music is strange to him but… he like it all the same. It moves him."

"Yes, and I'm sure much of the world is like that for him. Let's hope Armand and Benji realize this and choose suitable clothes, which is what I'm assuming they're looking for."

"Oh, don't worry, Armand has perfect taste."

Marius laughed inwardly again - was was going on, all this laughing? - and he thought of all this. And when the three boys appeared in the doorway of the living room, he smiled.

Benji and Armand were laden with shopping bags and boxes of every sort.

Formosus was a sight to behold. Somewhere or other they had found him the most disarming yellow and gold tunic, a blazing yellow set with gold thread almost like a gilded daffodil. He arms were uncovered and decorated with scads of golden bracelets and the onyx snake armlet. Formosus' feet were still in sandals, these old-fashioned, with leather laces that wound up above the ankle, wrapped even about the calves. On his shoulders was a magnificent violet cloak. Marius could scarcely believe his eyes. Oh, how dazzling he was!

Formosus nodded, as if he had picked up the thought, which of course he easily could have. "Yes, Marius, I have been granted a consulship and yes, I bear a message from the gods." He laughed. "But seriously, shopping was fun. And knowing I haven't a coin to my name, Armand was very generous!"

"Consider it a dowry," Armand offered lightly, aiming a wink at Marius.

Despite his age, Marius blushed. "Amadeo, you are an imp!'

"Oh, it's fine, Marius, I've certainly been a bride before," Formosus quipped. Broad smile. "But now, dear Marius, now that I have learned some English and have proper clothes, and most certainly before the dawn comes, I would like the two of us to go out. I would like to hunt."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius and Formosus become more intimate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 5 for notes.

As they left the house, Formosus announced, suddenly more serious, "I haven't hunted since I arrived in New York two weeks ago. And even in Europe, there were difficulties."

"Any particular reason for this?" Marius asked as he plotted their course in the back of his mind.

"I've been too dazzled, I suppose. Instead of honing in on victims, I find myself staring at the tall buildings, the streetlights, the window displays. Every sound, smell, vibration hits my senses like a hammer. I feel as I did in the days after I first came to this existence. Eventually, after a few years, I got used to it and grew out of it, but at first it was maddening. And now the world pulls me more than my own hunger. And I do feel hunger, I do feel thirst… even though I probably don't need to give in to it."

"Don't worry, Formosus, you've spared the mortal world for a millennium - which is much more than any of us can claim."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. But still, I am finding it difficult to concentrate."

"Well, soon you will be rid of that problem. I am taking you to an area where you may find the mortals impossible to resist."

"Do you go to this place often?"

"Not so often. I no longer really require the blood - but when I do decide on it and would like to remain near home, this is one of my top choices.

At length they entered a run-down warehouse district. It was about 3 a.m. and the night was cloudy and dark. As they approached, Formosus began to look about distractedly.

"What is bothering you?" Marius asked, all innocence.

Formosus continued to look about, tilting his head and sniffing the area. "Do I hear… music of some kind? And is it possible that even at a distance of several blocks I can smell the strong aroma of victims, their very sweat and blood?"

"You are not mistaken, Formosus. A few blocks from here a group, or rather, I should say, an entire subculture of youth have carved out a special haven for themselves. It is a block of warehouses all interconnected via great stone foundations. Some of the young people live on the floors below and others are artists. On the ground floors and in the basements are chambered designed for pleasure as well as pain, and the young mortals come and dance to the loudest, blackest music, all the while thinking they are perfect hellions, even though many are perfect innocents. Some are angry, some are sad, some come looking for release. And that is what I come to give - release to those whose lives are tumbling down and down. There are beautiful children here, as you will soon see."

Formosus made a movement that indicated that he had heard Marius' words but not necessarily understood them.

Finally the two of them stood at the very block. The music shook the foundations of the buildings and from time to time, as bodies moved in and out, flashes of light broke out from behind the closed doors and covered windows. Out on the sidewalks and in the nearby alleys, slender, sad-eyed youths smoked cigarettes so that in places the smoke caught in the moonlight like fog. To the vampires the air tasted of salt, heat and inevitable, unstoppable death.

"What do we do now?" Formosus asked faintly, obviously having trouble concentrating, although Marius knew that this time it was not the buildings or the lights or "the world" that was distracting him. It was the blood.

Marius slipped his arm around the other's shoulders and led him to a side door leading into a basement. Suddenly they found themselves in a dark, stone hallway. A short distance away, a small den of teenagers danced in a low-ceilinged chamber draped in red velvet. It was an appealing scene, but here, at this end of the hall, was the true feast.

He was dark handsome, pale young man with a mass of thick black hair flowing halfway down his back. His arms were covered with bruises. Marius realized in an instant that this young man, perhaps 20, had been using a poison in his veins and sitting there all alone in the dark, was dying.

Formosus realized it too, apparently, and stealthy as shadow, he crept into the room and before the boy could even notice a movement, he was on him. Marius watched from the door. He marveled at Formosus' skill, how he did not pull or suck at the wound but simply let the blood come to his lips, slowing drinking only that which they heart gave up willingly. And when it was done, Marius knew Formosus hadn't let a drop go to waste.

Laying the victim down in a natural attitude, Formosus quickly bit into his thumb and covered the fang marks with a bit of his own blood. The wound healed in an instant.

"You're very neat," Marius whispered. "No need to teach you that modern rule."

"Ha, modern!" Formosus scoffed as if the idea were ridiculous. "Oh, Marius, how you underestimate me! You think I would not be as careful as I should be in this day and age. But remember, like you, I lived in a time of great superstition. People feared witches and demons, and not without reason - death and disease with everywhere. You couldn't be too careful.

"Of course, some of our kind took this as cue to do even more damage since they wouldn't be noticed, but it was always my feeling that the people didn't need to be anymore frightened than they were. Better to let them think my dead have died of hunger or disease of the lungs or even plague."

Marius nodded and then, seeming to make a sudden decision, he gathered Formosus to his chest. "Formosus, I love you. I love you as I have not loved in centuries, and in a way it is not the same as it ever was. It much stronger and finer and I feel I could lose myself in you completely, that you supply the wisdom of the ages, that others do not. You have lived the same lifetime as I, only you missed the second half, and this has left you fresher. And for that, and of course your extraordinary beauty, I love you."

Formosus didn't say a word, instead pulling Marius down to the floor on top of him. With his whole being, he sent out a message to Marius, a message he could hardly resist: "I desire you, yes, I desire you, yes, I do desire you."

Pressing Formosus against the wall, Marius felt passion consume him in every part of his being. Not since his days in Venice had he sought this kind of pleasure, this intensity, this giving in to the absolute desire to consume and possess beauty. Even in the dark, the beauty was there, and Marius kissed the beauty, ran his hands over every inch.

Finally, he found himself kissing the tender skin below the chin. Formosus moaned and sent out another wave of communication: "Yes, please, take me!" And Marius felt a trembling hand on the back of his head, guiding his mouth down to the neck, to the vein itself, and finally, this time in words, he heard the word: "Drink."

Marius felt himself break through the soft, perfect skin, and then the flow of blood hit the roof of his mouth. Oh, the purity of it, the absolute purity, the strength, and through it he felt the size of Formosus' soul. He saw Cordatus, he saw the frescoes, again, clear as the day they were painted, he saw in a whirlwind a life, and at last he felt the darkness of that underground tomb. He knew what it had been like, the consuming loneliness, the near madness, the songs and poems run through over and over and over.

Oh, this is you, this is utterly you, he thought as he continued to drink. You and you and you....

"What I give to you," Formosus whispered, "is that which I have never given before. It is my virgin blood."

After a few more moments, Marius drew away. Leave some blood in the veins, he thought.

He heard a laugh in the dark and felt it shake in Formosus' chest.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking. Now that this marriage has been consummated, we can go home."

Marius laughed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The coven goes to bed and wakes up to the Brat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

By the time Marius and Formosus finally headed home, it was only an hour before dawn.

After leaving the warehouse district and its hedonists behind, Marius had led Formosus to another hunting ground. Formosus needed to replenish his blood supply, having given himself to Marius so completely.

Apparently he had left his "concentration" problem behind, finding and dispensing with not one but two victims quickly and efficiently. Marius discerned that far from being the eternal saint on the ancient villa walls, Formosus was a powerful vampire who wielded his skills with ruthless grace. Marius was getting to know him more and more all the time.

For the most part the two had walked in silence. Much information had been transmitted through the exchange of blood, and Marius thought on this, just as he thought on the passion he felt for this vampire he had never known before this night. It was a lot to absorb.

As they passed down the city streets, now and then Formosus asked Marius to explain things he saw. There was so much that was new to him.

"Mostly, the metaphors are the same as in olden times, places I traveled in the first millennium," Formosus observed. "I see the prostitutes, the late night taverns. I hear the thoughts of people who are troubled and cannot find sleep. I feel the coming of the dawn. But then… there are these strange images, fantastic machines. And everywhere there are lights peering into the darkness."

He pointed to a 24-hour laundromat. No one was there, but the lights were blazing brighter than daylight.

"I can't say you'll get used to it," Marius sighed, "but in time you will construct an impression of this new world and a means of accepting and integrating what you see. It's jarring, but after a time it will shock you less."

Formosus nodded and was quiet. Marius noted that his eyes seemed somehow troubled.

"Marius," he said finally. "I have tell you something. I'm not sure why, but I keep thinking back on your admonition to Lestat when you first met with him in Greece two centuries ago. You told him 'never, never make one as young as Armand.' You told him that -"

"Don't go on, I know what I said and -"

"No, please let me continue. It is my understanding that you believe that to succeed in this dark realm, a vampire must have lived some 'lifetime' as a mortal. If they have not, they are not prepared for the shock of this existence and will succumb to madness, despair and quite possibly an early grave."

"And you, what do you say to this, the boy who must barely have been 18?"

Formosus looked down, obviously feeling some pain at the remark. Quietly he said, "I think I must be the exception to the rule. It's true that eventually I was overcome, but even though most of my short life had been restricted to the town in which I lived, I managed to triumph for centuries. It was only after a thousand years that I was overcome with despair - not bad considering, wouldn't you say?"

"Not bad. But your life was happy, not fractured by hopelessness or beatings or religion. Your life made sense to you. Benji is the same - his head has always been firmly on his shoulders."

"Yes," Formosus said quickly. "But still, I wonder if perhaps my lifetime would have been different had I been older, more able to adapt to things. I may not have entombed myself if I hadn't been so frustrated with being such a youth…"

Suddenly he stopped on a corner. A look of apprehension crossed his face.

"What is it, my love?" Marius asked, also pausing at the corner.

"Oh, I just thought… Hmmm, Lestat must be in the city, I think I sensed him."

"I felt it, too. He and Louis live not far from here."

"I see. And when can I expect Lestat to come after me?"

Marius laughed and they began walking again, quickening their pace. "Come after you? What ever gave you the idea Lestat would do such a thing?"

"Oh, Marius, you have no idea. I am frightened of him. I told you he nearly caught me on my journey here from New York - I mean, he saw me as I passed through some city farther north of here. He was madly attracted, of that I was sure. He would have tried to catch me if I hadn't disappeared."

"He is rather impulsive."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Such a willful creature and, well, who knows what mischief he could stir up. He can't ever let things be, can he?"

Marius shook his head. "No, he can't, although he has been quiet for a number of months now, even after waking from his trance. Do you blame him? The Damndest Creature himself went to Heaven and Hell!"

"Yes, I know, but still…"

"Well, don't worry, we're almost home and it's near enough to dawn we can assume we won't hear from him until… at least tomorrow. I can't make promises but -"

"No matter, it's enough. Just promise to protect me." Formosus smiled, then reached out and put his arm around Marius' shoulder.

"Always," Marius whispered. 

* * *

When Marius and Formosus arrived home at last, Armand was in the garden reading the poems. He looked up and very slowly smiled, gesturing for them to sit down beside him, which they did.

"Welcome to the club," he said affably, holding up the book and pointing to it.

"What club do you mean?" Formosus asked, a bit perplexed.

"Oh, the club of vampires who have written autobiographies that have become world-famous under pseudonyms. Louis, Lestat, David, myself… But you were the first, of course."

Formosus shook his head. "I'm afraid you're wrong, Armand, I am not a member of this 'club.' I was a mortal boy when I wrote those poems. And I probably would not have published them if I had survived as that mortal boy. It was only because I 'died' and my master killed himself that they ever came to light. And it was pure greed on the part of the family that put his name on the book instead of mine."

"But you are an author!" Armand exclaimed, hoping to win at least one point.

"That is true, that is true. And if you want to count works composed as a vampire, as I told Marius, I used to create manuscripts of Roman texts for European monasteries - and those texts are at the Vatican right now! I just loved doing that work and illuminated manuscripts… I needn't explain to you the beauty involved there."

"No," Armand said, laying the book in his lap. "I understand. But it's time to go to the vaults and sleep."

"Yes, it is," said Marius, rising. "Let me show you your 'accommodations,' Formosus. And then tomorrow night, we can continue."

"I would like that very much," Formosus replied, rising and following them into the house.

* * *

Early the next evening the little coven had gathered out in the garden. Marius was reading the newspaper and Benji was asking Formosus more questions about Rome. Armand had out the poetry book and was reading to Sybelle, who was looking off into the distance, enjoying the sound of his voice.

They had all slept in the secret vaults below the house. Formosus had slept in the "guest room," which as far as Marius was concerned was a good thing because he was trying to avoid deliberately hurting Armand's feelings. He read his papers a bit more deeply that usual, hoping it would allow him to rein in his passion a bit. Being so passionate could be tiring.

Suddenly, off in the distance, he heard someone singing in a hearty baritone. He looked up from the paper expectantly.

"Lestat," he announced.

Everyone stopped what they were doing. Formosus once again looked worried.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," Marius sighed. "But don't worry, come sit by me, I'll protect you."

Formosus slipped across the patio and into the chair next to Marius, who put down his paper and reached out to hold Formosus' hand.

Finally Lestat came from around the corner of the house, walking with a considerable swagger, still singing. Suddenly he stopped singing and, mouth slightly open, stared at Formosus. He turned his eyes to Marius and then to Armand... and then back to Formosus.

"I see, so he was yours! I knew it!" he said, all at once, pointing at Marius accusingly.

"Excuse me?" Marius asked, momentarily puzzled.

"This one here, this boy, I saw him a few days ago and I thought, now here is one of Marius' secret -"

Marius broke in. "Enough! Why is it that everyone thinks this one - his name is Formosus, by the way - is mine?"

"Well, you do have quite a history with... _the least of these_ ," Lestat said wickedly, moving closer and gesturing to Armand and Benji.

Marius' face darkened with anger but he soon recovered. He would get Lestat for this one. "Well," he said, standing to face the eternal Brat, "I don't think you're really one to talk about that, now are you? After all, I think you must be the record-holder in that department! I mean, come now, Lestat, a six-year-old?!"

That had done it. Lestat was silent. With a swift movement he sat down in a chair near Formosus and looked almost sorry he had said anything.

"Claudia..." he sighed. "Yes, of course you're right, I tease too much. I'm... well, never mind, I won't mention it again."

He turned to look at Formosus. He was about to speak when Formosus held up his hand.

"No need to apologize, Lestat," he said in Latin, hoping Lestat would understand him. "And I'm sorry I had to run from you, but I was in quite a hurry and had to come here to see Marius right away."

"I see," Lestat said, digesting the Latin slowly, along with the steady pulse of thought Formosus delivered in an attempt to make himself better understood. "And you were coming to see him because...?"

"Difficult to say in a few short sentences. But let me say that I have risen after a thousand years. I come from the same time as Marius, during the _Pax Romana_ , and grew up when Italy was the center of the Roman Empire."

Lestat furrowed his brow and appeared to think on this, at least briefly.

"So you knew Marius?" he asked.

"No, but I read about him, thanks to you and Armand and Pandora. And I knew he was the one person I could go to."

"Fancy that," Lestat chuckled. "Breaking the Old Rules scores a triumph once again."

"Lestat, what is it with you and your obsession with being a naughty child?" Armand demanded, suddenly joining the conversation.

"Oh, good evening, Armand, so kind of you to join our discussion," Lestat purred sarcastically. "To answer you, I simply need a little excitement."

"A little," Armand scoffed. "You nearly bring an end to the vampire world as we know it. You switch bodies with a mortal and nearly die. You go to Heaven and Hell and the result of that journey turned my life on its head! You call that a little excitement?"

"Oh, hush, Armand, you're beginning to sound like Louis," Lestat said, waving his hand as is he were brushes away some cobwebs.

"Speaking of Louis," Marius interjected, "where is Louis tonight, Lestat?"

"Well, first he was going to go hunt and then he was going to find a book or two. Of course. But back to you... Formosus, could you go over again exactly where you come from and how you got here? And if you can, try to speak English, that Latin was torture for me."

Formosus, with help from Marius, told his story in brief format, illustrating some of the figures and locations with images from his mind. Lestat was captivated, his notoriously short attention span for once kept in check.

When Formosus was finally done speaking, Lestat laughed.

"What is it?" Formosus asked.

"Oh, nothing," Lestat giggled. He was going to have one of his laughing fits.

"Lestat!" Marius cried. "What is it?"

"Oh, Marius, it's just that I'm happy. So good to find an innocent, someone among us who I haven't wronged and who hasn't wronged or been wronged by one of us. You certainly must appreciate this - a child vampire that's not your fault!"

This time Marius didn't get angry, but smiled and looked thoughtful. "That's right, Lestat, he's not my fault. However, Formosus is _something_ to me, something I've never had."

"What's that?" asked Lestat.

"I don't know exactly," Marius said slowly, "but he's not my child" - and here his eyes met Armand's - "and he's not my pupil" - and he looked to Lestat again - "and he's not my elder like, say, Maharet. He is my..."

"Slave?" Lestat broke in.

"No! Oh, Lestat, sometimes you are... No, not my slave. Formosus, forgive him, as you'll find you have to do many times each night. Just forgive him. I was only trying to tell him I love you in a different sort of way than I have ever loved and I can't really explain it."

"Don't worry," Formosus whispered, squeezing Marius' hand. "You don't have to."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestat continues to be a brat, and then Louis appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

"So what's next, Marius?" asked Lestat as he stretched himself out on a divan, feigning weariness everyone knew he could not possibly feel. "Going to install a little crib in your crypt for the newly adopted baby?"

Marius flashed Lestat a look and this time, to everyone's surprise, so did Formosus, whose mind had released a shock of insult almost immediately.

"Lestat, I need to make something clear to you," he said, speaking slowly and with a more commanding, adult voice than Marius had ever heard from him. "It's something that based on your experience should be obvious but of which you obviously need to be reminded."

"And what is that?" Lestat sighed with disinterest.

"Despite my youthful form and despite the way I deport myself as a gentle, singing fairy slave, so to speak, I am no weakling, no fledgling to be toyed with, but am a powerful individual with my own will. I prefer to be peaceful and loving, but I am not bound to that and I will not take abuse or disrespect. I am not a baby and I think the fact that I had survived so long totally on my own should be a testament to that."

Lestat rolled his eyes and frowned but it was clear he had heard. "All right, but that still doesn't answer my question. What's next?"

Formosus was quiet for a moment. "I don't know exactly. On the one hand, I would like very much to stay here and be in the company of my own kind - for the first time in my life - but at the same time, I would like to learn more about the world. I would like to travel, to investigate, to read. There is so much for me to explore. Eventually I may want my own life. But for now? If it is not too much of a burden, I would like to remain in New Orleans."

"Here with Marius?" Lestat asked.

Formosus looked to Marius, who nodded and smiled.

"Yes, here with Marius," Formosus replied happily.

"Fascinating development," Lestat murmured. "I was wondering, Formosus, if you would be at all interested in coming to visit me at my place."

"Tonight?"

"Hmmm, good question. As I said, Louis is out hunting for blood and books. Perhaps we should wait until he comes by here. I think he probably will, since I told him I thought something was going on, that I had sensed something last night in the hour before dawn. It was you, correct?"

"Yes, Marius and I were on our way home."

"From hunting?"

"Yes."

"And how did you like the hunting in New Orleans?" Lestat asked as if he were requesting a dining review from a friend.

"Good. Of course I am still adjusting. 1,000 years is a long time to go without."

Lestat was silent. Everyone knew that since awaking from his trance on the floor at St. Elizabeth's he had made a vow not to take human life. But whether or not he was keeping that vow, no one knew for certain, although each of them had their suspicions.

Lestat did nothing to resolve the issue, instead opting to switch topics.

"So we will wait for Louis. Or perhaps someone could call him for me. Armand? Marius? Anyone? Meanwhile, Formosus, tell me what do you like to do?"

"See, you're being interviewed again," Marius chuckled.

"Not a problem. What do I like to do? I suppose I like to listen, to watch. I love poetry, singing, dancing. I like acrobatics. I think I would enjoy seeing some plays or concerts. I love reading but I have so much to catch up with, all these languages, typestyles. I need to read a lot more history, there are so many holes. I like to travel, I -"

"That's enough," Lestat cut in. "I don't need a personal ad, I was just curious. Sounds like you would be a good match for Louis. He had all sorts of books he could lend you and would introduce you to all the modern authors and poets. Personally I tend towards watching movies and listening to records. I like to go out to dance clubs."

"So I would imagine," Formosus said. "I admit that that is less my style. I can't relate to the modern electronic world very well. At least not yet."

"Oh, then you will certainly enjoy Louis. Goodness knows he needs to be more social," Lestat mused, until all at once he noticed a few heads had turned. Louis had arrived. 

* * *

Louis had obviously come in a rush. His hair was tousled from running and his cheeks were colored from recent feeding. As he spotted Formosus, his paced slowed, then stopped. His hands, each holding a book, dropped to his sides and he stared at the scene in puzzlement.

"Pardon me, have I missed something?" he asked in his usual polite manner. When no one answered immediately, he took a few steps forward, stopping at the edge of the patio.

"Marius," he said quietly. "You called me. And now I see this new creature here. He isn't by chance another child of yours, is he?"

Marius tossed his head back and closed his eyes. "No, Louis," he said lightly, by now taking this question as a kind of standing joke, "Formosus, whom you will soon meet, is no child of mine. He came to me last night after a long journey. He seeks company and an introduction to the age. I have given him my protection."

"I see," Louis said evenly. "Well then, Formosus, welcome to our little New Orleans circle."

Placing his books on one of the tables, Louis approached Formosus and offered his hand. Knowing just enough of manners to understand this signal, Formosus took the hand, shook it gently, and smiled.

"You are very kind," said Formosus in Latin, afterwards repeating the remark in English.

Louis gave him the tiniest of odd looks as he let go of the hand. "May I take a seat?"

"Oh, Louis, do emerge from your 18th century shell, will you?" Lestat interjected, finally rising from the divan and indicating a nearby chair.

Looking a bit embarrassed, Louis complied.

"Louis," Formosus said softly, "just for your information, personally I find your '18th century shell' delightful. Consider yourself far ahead of me. The last century I kept up with was the 11th."

Marius laughed. It was really too funny, this dialog that only immortals could be having. He was really beginning to enjoy the way Formosus dealt with all the different personalities. He was quite deft actually, especially considering that he had never spent any time among vampires.

Louis meanwhile had registered a look a shock. The 11th century? How old were we talking about?

Formosus naturally caught the thought and answer accordingly, tossing in a brief summary of his life and concluding with mention of his recent decision to remain in New Orleans and study the age.

"I've already told him you'd be a good guide," Lestat chimed in confidentally. "At least for literature. For clothing, maybe not, but certainly you'd be a good guide for reading."

"That might be something we could talk about," he said, non-committal. He would need to become better acquainted before offering to share his time with anyone on a regular basis. For the most part, he still preferred to be alone. Then again, this creature was mightily attractive and he might be able to compromise himself just a tad. "Yes, definitely, we could talk about that," he said.

"Thank you, that would be lovely," Formosus replied.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius lets Formosus have his way with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

In the days that followed this little meeting in the garden, the atmosphere of the house grew more subdued, with no more quarreling or unexpected visitors. Lestat and Louis had returned to their townhouse, with Louis promising to return in a few days.

Formosus seemed to welcome the change. The work of telling his life story three times and dealing with so many immortal egos had worn on him. The stress of his journey from Europe and adjustment to the modern world had also taxed him. He seemed in search of time to sort things out and finally, with the situation settling down, he was finding that opportunity.

Shortly after Lestat and Louis had headed for home, Marius and Formosus had returned to the bedroom.

Formosus took out the bottle of wine and poured two glasses. Staining his lips a deep red with a sip, he pulled Marius down onto the bed and pressed his lips to his.

Naturally Marius was the stronger of the two but he allowed himself to be taken down. With this one, he told himself, he would allow most anything.

"My sweet," he whispered, fingers in Formosus black hair. "How embracable you are, how perfectly irresistible. My heart is filled with honey when I am near you."

How much he felt like the embodiment of poetry as he said these words, not as art but as the expression of his true feelings. When you are bitter, love poetry seems a mockery; when you in love, it is all you want to hear.

Formosus nodded and wrapped his arms around Marius' strong shoulders. "I cannot think how I could be more fortunate. You have all been so cordial, so wonderful, and for the first time in almost my entire immortal life, I feel I am in the right place and no longer in danger."

"In danger?" Marius asked. "What danger were you in?"

"Living on your own carries its burdens, as you well know," Formosus sighed.

"I see," Marius said quietly. "Well, we must make up for that." He kissed Formosus on the mouth and then reached for the hem of Formosus tunic and gave a tug. Within a moment the tunic was gone, pulled clean over his head and tossed off to the side. Formosus lay on the bed nearly naked. Only his sandals and jewelry remained.

Marius' eyes looked on the youthful form in wonder. If there had been a model for the ancient depictions of adolescent gods, this one was born to be that model. How fine the shoulders, how perfectly defined the muscles of his chest, how firm the calves. And absolutely hairless, it seemed, adulthood having never fully arrived.

Formosus laughed softly. "Actually, there was some, I swear it, the man who abducted me to Greece took it upon himself to 'clean me up' only a day before the god took me and made me into this. If it hadn't been for that man's obsession with Roman fashion, I would have kept that little hair."

"The plucking of the hair," mused Marius, a serious look flashing across his face. "This man who took you, what was his name?"

"I refuse to mention his name because I will not have him live on beyond the grave."

Marius nodded and looked thoughtful. "Did you kill him?"

"No, the dark god did that for me. It was the only good he ever did for me. After that I was locked up to do my 'service' as a god. For three months I cried and screamed and begged to be set free but he would not relent. He told me I was perfect, I was pure, I was new and undamaged and I must make more gods, I must restore what had been lost."

"And you refused."

"I refused everything - except the blood. I would had refused even that if I had not been so starved. But finally I decided that the best way to escape was to take the blood offerings, take as much as I could, and simply escape. And that is what I did."

"And the god?

"I flew too fast to know or care. I ran to Italy, as I told you, and after that it was devastation. Perhaps I should have returned to Greece and had my vengeance, but then again, that would not have changed anything."

But Formosus was through with going over such details.

"Take off these clothes, Marius," he said playfully, tugging on the collar. "Don't think I don't desire your body. It is not a 'one way street' as the phrase goes."

Marius laughed. Formosus had been speaking in Latin and when he had come to the phrase, he had translated it and it seemed funny to him suddenly. He took off his garments in a rush and lay back among the pillows. He closed his eyes.

Formosus did not need to be invited to come closer, he knew what to do. Marius felt a smooth leg come down on one side of his right leg, and then another fall gently to the other side. Formosus sealed himself against Marius' chest and set his face into the hollow under his chin and under his ear. With his right leg Formosus began to rub against Marius' long-dormant loins.

Marius moaned. Formosus began to cover him with kisses, to run his hands over Marius' skin in the manner of butterflies. Marius felt himself growing warm as the blood came alive with sensation. He knew his organ had become erect and he felt Formosus' as well.

As the minutes passed, there were silent communications. The sensations grew overwhelming. A blood sweat had broken out on each of them. They joined at the mouth over and over in deep French kisses. "Love you, love you, love you," went the silent voices, back and forth, over and over.

Finally the two forms were trembling so that Marius knew a resolution was needed. Pushing Formosus' head back onto his neck, he implored him silently: "Drink."

Formosus pulled back. "Is it permitted?" he asked in a small voice.

"Yes, Formosus, it is permitted. I permit it. I absolutely permit it, do as you will."

Formosus broke through the skin and in an instant, words became irrelevant.

* * *

Afterward the two of them lay wrapped in each other's arms. Off in the distance Sybelle could be heard playing the piano. If Armand or Benji were about, they couldn't be heard. Marius suspected they had gone out to hunt or simply to leave them alone.

Formosus was smiling and finally let out a laugh.

"Why do you laugh?" Marius asked.

"Oh, Marius, I was just thinking… You must think me a terrible whore, coming to you out of nowhere and constantly dragging you into these intimate embraces. I assure you I am good for more than that."

"I'm sure," Marius whispered, kissing Formosus once again on the lips.

"No, really, I am… It's just that it's been so long, I went so long without my body, without companionship, without feeling, without sensation, without opportunity to feel alive, that now I find myself falling into these things almost as if I have no will. I want to feel pleasure and give pleasure and when I do, everything is so heightened, so much more than I remember. Truly, it has been a long, long time."

Marius propped himself up on one elbow. "How long?"

"Do you remember what I told you of my many lives? How I set up my own house of pleasure and became a vampire courtesan?"

Marius nodded. Incredible, that.

"Well, that was the last time I really had any of this, and how much of it I had, you can't imagine. Afterward I drew myself apart, alone, and finally, and this was a century or two later, I went down into the vault."

Formosus sounded sad and Marius knew why. "All that pleasure, all those mortals, had driven you away, is that not so?"

"It is so. I had created something like what you had created when you had your palazzo in Venice, a world filled with human beings, with mortals, whom I treated well, whom I kept safe. It was not a brothel, it was truly a palace of love."

"And where was this place?"

"I think you can guess."

"It was not in Italy, was it?"

"No, Marius, it was in Turkey, in Constantinople."

"Constantinople? Really? Surprised I didn't notice you."

"I was discreet. As I told you, I was very frightened of other immortals, I didn't know there were any worth talking to. I thought they would all kill me for my purported indiscretions. I was not a god, not a sufferer, no worship of Satan. I was as I was and what I was…"

"Beautiful. Let's stop talking. Rest back, and stop talking. I know what I need to know, and now we can move on. I want to teach you now. I want to teach you languages, books, how to get about, how to function in this age. No more apologies, explanations, let us for a few days live in the present and love in the present."

"Perfect," Formosus sighed. "How could I ask for more?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius gives Formosus a taste of the world, and Formosus in turn goes for a taste of Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

The next three nights were a time of learning. Marius was determined that Formosus was to take at least a few baby steps into the new millennium. Otherwise, how could he ever be safe? The world was confusing and dangerous. He must be prepared.

The first night, after finishing up in the bedroom, Marius had assisted Formosus in putting together an outfit that was slightly less conspicuous than the yellow tunic and purple cape he had worn the night prior. "Can't have you walking around like a candle in the dark, you know," he said as he examined the clothes Armand and Benji had procured for him the night before.

For the most part Formosus had had his way, and there were many long, loose garments, golden brooches, multiple pairs of sandals, but here and there Marius found items that had undoubtedly been Armand's choice, although of course even these were still slightly outdated. Velvet leggings, a loose blouse and a broad belt would have to do. With that, they were ready to go out!

Marius took Formosus everywhere he could think of. They crept into apartments, through churches, into shopping malls, bookstores, police stations, hotels, government offices. The walked down the avenues, into the alleyways, up on the rooftops. They observed sleeping children, homeless men, store clerks, criminals, college students. And all the while Marius explained, pointed out, and generally took it upon himself to be Formosus' teacher.

He explained the architecture, both the old and the new, and gave a history of how styles had changed over time. He talked to Formosus about electricity, how it was the blood of all things, and then he spoke of the invisible rays that transmitted so much information unseen, popping up on radios, televisions, telephones, computers, circling the world by cable, flying up beyond the sky to satellites, these man-made metal moons.

Of human culture there was much to be said. Relations between men and women, children and their parents, the young and the old. How people ate, what they ate, where the food came from. In drug stores he picked up various products and explained to Formosus their purpose. In bookstores and libraries he pulled out books, showed him pictures of art, historical figures, wars. Of new ideas, new discoveries, new philosophies, new styles there seemed to be no end.

Many times Formosus was incredulous but at the same time, he knew that what Marius was telling him was true. Some of the things he was shown were ones he had seen on his own during his months alone in Europe. Still, it was one thing to infer and another thing to have a being such a Marius, who had come in one his side of history and stepped out the other, lay it all out in such understandable terms.

By the end of the first night, Formosus' head was swimming, but it was tolerable. By the end of the second night, while he had begun to absorb some of the more basic shocks, he was feeling a bit dizzy and sick. By the middle of the third night, he had seen enough.

"Marius," he said weakly as they left the city hospital where they had been observing the treatment of the sick, "I think this is enough. For now."

Marius turned his head and looked a bit surprised even though in truth he was not. He realized there was only so much information one could take in once. And as much as he had enjoyed being the teacher to Formosus, he felt himself missing the leisure of those first nights, not to mention the pleasure.

"But I thought you wanted to see the world?" he said pleasantly.

"Oh, Marius, I do, but I've seen enough for now. I… yes, I've seen enough. Don't worry, I'm not about to kill myself in despair, I'm all right, it's just that there are so many things I didn't expect would ever happen, have happened, will happen. What does it mean? My head hurts, or at least it would if I ever really hurt. As it is… perhaps my soul hurts? Forgive me, I am a bit muddled."

"Never fear," Marius said, wrapping his arm about Formosus' shoulders as they continued walking, this time through a quiet residential neighborhood. "All shall be right once again. From now on, you can dip your oar into the stream and give up this wild life of… well, I was going to saying kayaking but I'm sure you don't know what that is, so my metaphor is ruined."

Formosus laughed. "Thanks, I get your point." He spoke in English, as during their exploration Marius had insisted that he learn it. It was important for him to be able to function in the world without being conspicuous, he had been told. Speaking in Latin wouldn't get him anywhere and while speaking with his mind was permissible, it wasn't something he could rely on and could get him in trouble if he engaged in it too often.

"So what shall we do now, my dear, if you are through with our little dive through modern life?" Marius asked teasingly. "Back to the house?"

Formosus stood still for a moment and then brightened.

"No, actually," he said slowly. "I have someplace I should go visit."

"Where?" asked Marius. "Back to the warehouse district?"

"No, Marius, over to Lestat and Louis' townhouse."

Marius had been taken by surprise. "Rue Royale? And you aren't afraid of Lestat?"

"No, I think what I said the other night was enough, he knows his place."

Marius laughed. "Lestat has _never_ known his place, Formosus, and it's to think you could possibly have taught him anything. Still, if you're not too intimidated, go ahead. Anyway, I suspect you're not going for Lestat but for Louis."

Formosus smiled. "Yes, how did you know?"

"You made it rather obvious. So did he, in his own shy way. He finds you attractive and wants to spend time with you, despite his solitary nature and despite Lestat. So go ahead, visit him, see where it leads you. I will restrain myself from being jealous - I do not own you, after all."

"No, you don't," Formosus replied. "I was emancipated long ago."

* * *

As it happened, Formosus had great luck. He had worried about how he would approach the house and gain entry, but just as he came to the house, another figure appeared a few houses down the street. It was Louis, dressed as if perhaps he had gone to see a play or a concert. Nice to see him looking so handsome.

"Ah, you have been waiting for me!" Louis cried in mock distress as he approached the gate. Now that he was more familiar with American English, Formosus was aware of the French accent,

"Oh, no, I just arrived," he said reassuringly. "I was with Marius, and then I decided to come over this way to visit." He smiled. Up close, Louis was very lovely, and without Lestat, it was so much easier to appreciate him.

Louis opened the door and let him in. Formosus liked the feeling of the rooms immediately. It smelled good, the old wood. The carpeting was soft under his feet. And the furniture was magnificent, even if it came from an era he could not identify. Very different from Marius' house, this place was, but that didn't matter.

"What a wonderful home you have," he marveled.

"Oh, thank you, it's really both of ours but thank you," he said modestly as he removed his coat and hung it on a hook. He gestured to an armchair.

Formosus sank down gratefully and Louis sat close by. Louis was so much more at east than he had been the other evening.

"So," Louis began, "Marius let you out of his sight, I see. He isn't waiting outside, is he?"

"Oh, no, I had my lessons with him and then finally I told him I needed a break. He should be spending some time with Armand, after all. I can take care of myself,"

"But you do enjoy Marius' attentions, yes?" Louis asked, obviously curious about the relationship.

"Oh, yes, Louis. I don't think there's any way you could know this, but we do love each other, you know."

Louis looked even more thoughtful. "Splendid. Love amongst our kind is… a delicate matter, so easy to come by, so difficult to maintain, thwarted at every turn. But since he is not your maker, perhaps that makes sense."

"Yes, that is the reason, I'm sure. Of course with my maker that wasn't an issue, I escaped him because he was an ancient, evil burnt creature, but I understand what you're saying. And as I said, I do love him."

"And Armand?" Louis asked. He had been by the house the night before, while Marius and Formosus had been out, and he'd spoken with Armand himself, but still, he wanted to hear it from the other side.

"Armand is doing quite well. He loves Marius but always there will be a line of tender pain between them, whatever the love. I believe he is grateful to have someone able to fulfil Marius' wishes and desires, no strings attached."

"That is it exactly," Louis said quickly. He let Formosus know what Armand had said, how Armand was feeling like they were much more of a family now. He had been happy before, but he was somewhat uncomfortable being part of a couple with his maker, being the joint-parent and the child at the same time.

Marius was finally holding in his arms that which he had always desired but had never been able to hold on to for long enough. And Formosus was no mortal temptation and no lesser, weaker being, he was as ancient as himself and even in his naivete of modern life, a wise and powerful being in his own right.

"I'm grateful to you for telling me these things," Formosus said, meeting Louis' green eyes gently. He wanted to reach out and touch his hair and without his usual boldness but with clear intent, he sent a thought to Louis to let him know this.

Louis registered a look of surprise, even these days not perceiving his own beauty. "Well, I see…" he mumbled, actually blushing. He was flustered but managed to go on, "Formosus, could you explain something to me?"

"Yes, anything you wish," Formosus replied.

"Your attractions. I know how you feel for Marius, that is obvious. But for me as well? You find me attractive?"

"Yes, naturally I do."

Louis was obviously struck by this but continued, "And Armand?"

"Yes, he is lovely."

"And Lestat?"

Formosus looked apprehensive. Perhaps Lestat was in the area. He looked around, as if Lestat might be standing in the shadows listening.

"Don't worry, he's gone off to Europe, told me he wanted to give me 'space.' I was fine with it naturally, as I had been planning on spending some time with you."

"Well, then, I have to say that I am attracted to him as well. Although at first he frightened me."

"Believe me, I understand. You fear his aggression?"

"Yes, and other things. He is simply all that I have never been or at least he does the things I have been frightened to do. Having passion, that he and I share, but the way he has gone about pursuing them, the things he has done… All while I lay struggling in my secret vault."

Clearly Louis understood. He was a man of limits; Lestat existed as if he knew none and never had.

The two of them sat in silence for a minute or two. Both of them admired the other's shining black hair. Formosus' eyes were brown, with tiny golden streaks in the center, caught by the light of the floor lamp.

"You really are a very beautiful creature, Formosus," Louis said finally. "You know this of course, you have heard it a hundred thousand times by now, but somehow I feel I should say it out loud myself. You are very lovely." He said this in the manner of a lover sharing a tender secret.

"Vice versa," Formosus said, rising and coming over to stand before Louis, who rose as well. "Louis, would you mind if I did something… aggressive?"

"That would depend," Louis replied. Their bodies were nearly touching, they were standing so close together.

"Depend on what?"

"On… whether I would enjoy it."

"Oh, you'll enjoy it," Formosus said, giving Louis a devilish look. "And you won't feel pain and I will not draw any blood."

Louis considered this and said finally, "Will it make Lestat angry?"

"That I don't know. But in any case, I am no weak thing and do you think Marius would let any harm come to me?"

"No, certainly not, he wouldn't. And Lestat wouldn't dare to harm you either," Louis said, suddenly absorbed with the thought that no creature should ever harm Formosus, who seemed more seductive with every passing second. He was like a Siren, it seemed.

"So what do you propose for this act of aggression?" Louis questioned.

"I was thinking of throwing you down on the divan here and perhaps getting a little closer. I simply must touch you, I have missed this for so long, feeling the bodies of others. This is important to me, as it always was and always will be. I want you to hold me," Formosus said.

"Fine then, but remember to be gentle. I am a fragile creature compared with most of our kind and -"

Louis was cut off as Formosus swept him up in his arms and rushed toward the divan. Then thinking better of it, Formosus managed to sweep Louis up the stairs and into a bedroom upstairs. Louis was taken aback by this show of strength, although of course that was silly - Formosus was 10 times as old as he was. Still, it was a surprise!

"And now?" Louis asked as he lay amid the immaculate bedcovers.

"And now something will happen," Formosus declared.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis opens up, Marius considers the future, and Lestat has a fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

Something did indeed happen. Louis found himself enfolding Formosus in his arms and holding him in a way he had scarcely held anyone in his life. He was not an open person and never had been. Devoted, yes; understanding, yes; feeling, yes, yes, even too feeling. But open? Yielding? Only with a few people had he ever let down his reserve.

Yet here it lay kissing a stranger who for some reason did not seem a stranger. In the back of his mind flashed the thought that perhaps he should beware this newfound intimacy. Perhaps it was a trick. Obviously Formosus was infinitely stronger and could overpower him, bend him to his will without much effort at all.

Louis tossed that suspicious thought from his mind, however. That couldn't be, he told himself. This was something special. He realized that he no longer felt the slightest bit afraid. All he wanted was to hold Formosus in his arms and cover him with kisses… and the astonishing thing was, he found himself actually doing this. In fact, within moments he had unbuttoned Formosus' shirt and dropped it onto the floor. That out of the way, Louis explored the uncovered skin with new abandon.

Meanwhile Formosus was touching him in ways that brought new meaning to the word desire. Louis felt positively unchained. How was it that Formosus was able to make him feel this way? It had taken him two centuries to open up to Lestat and yet only three days after meeting this one, he felt as if he could say anything and do anything. What was this effect?

"I was born this way," Formosus sighed into Louis' ear. "I have always had this effect of drawing the tender side out of people."

"You don't say…" Louis moaned, running his hands up and down Formosus back, kneading the muscles at his shoulder blades.

"Louis, my master found me on the side of a road outside our village. I was a very young child, two or three years old, and I was all alone. There were wicked cuts and bruises all over my body. My throat was red where it seemed someone had tried to strangle me, kill me."

"Kill you?"

"Yes, who knows why, my master says I was completely healthy. In any case, I might have died had not my master found me there and been drawn in by this gift of mine.

"He took you in?"

"Yes, he did. When we arrived at the villa, I was fed and then I was entrusted to a favorite female slave. At one time she had been in charge of raising his own sons, but now they were older, in their teens and off in other cities studying, and so she was free to tend to me. She was a mother to me when I had none."

"And you became a slave?"

"I was born a slave, of that I have little doubt. But in this new life, however, I was a slave of a different order. I was never raised to labor or keep accounts or teacher - I was taught the finer things in order that I might please my master. My singing, my dancing, my poetry, all come from training. I was even schooled by a private tutor, all my master's doing."

"He knew what he wanted."

"Exactly. And when I turned 13, he decided that I was ready to begin my full service."

Louis chewed on this bit of information. Whatever his own feelings, he knew that many people would call that type of relationship pederasty and consider it a sin.

Formosus shook his head as he caught the thought. "Louis, it was and it wasn't. I know it _could_ have been bad, it could have been _terrible_ and for many children it _was_ , but it was not this way with me. I was blessed, I don't know how to explain it. But it was all perfectly natural to me. I loved my master's mind as well as his body, not because he was my master or because of threats or his power over me, but because we simply seemed to belong to one another."

"And you two became lovers?"

"Yes," Formosus said reflectively. After a pause he continued. "We had our secret chamber but even above ground, we were together all the time. He had business to attend to and meanwhile I continued to study the arts, the languages, history, all the Roman disciplines. But in between he painted me, I wrote poetry, we had meals together."

"What did his family think?"

"As I said, his children had been sent off to school. His wife had died earlier. He had not remarried. The household was a happy one. The only people who presented problems were the relatives, some of whom objected and thought what we had was unseemly. But for the most part, we went unmolested, as it were."

"And then came the jealous man."

Formosus sighed. "Yes, but let's not speak of him. Let's return to pleasure and not dwell on pain."

"Yes, let's," Louis replied serenely, turning to hold Formosus once more. 

* * *

Marius was sitting in a chair on the patio staring out into shadows of the oak trees. He was considering what his life had been since Armand and his children had come to live with him. He also considered what that life could possibly become in the future. He found his mind falling into idyllic visions of a family, whole and complete, where each member had a love that they could trust, where no one felt slighted.

Marius laughed softly finally, for he knew that such hopes were probably unrealistic; when had life or love ever operated so smoothly? Moreover, he still hadn't heard the outcome of Formosus' little trip to see Louis.

"Louis is with Formosus!?" cried a familiar voice from behind. In a moment Lestat stood before Marius, clearly enraged.

"Yes, Lestat, he left me about three hours ago to go visit him at your townhouse," Marius replied, studying Lestat and feeling annoyed that his thoughts had been read.

"Oh, fine! Well, dear Marius, I was just over at the townhouse looking for Louis and he wasn't there. I came here thinking he might be over here and now you say he is off with this strange Roman slave boy of yours?"

Marius frowned. "An oversimplification, Lestat. Be a little kind. I am sure Louis is fine. Formosus is a most loving creature. Believe me, he will do your emerald-eyed beauty no harm."

"I should hope not!" Lestat exclaimed. "For then we would have war on our hands!"

Marius laughed. "Lestat, please calm yourself. I can tell you that at this very moment Louis and Formosus are only a few blocks from the house. Louis' mind is open and in his thoughts I read great happiness."

"Do you now?" Lestat asked with a slightly wicked tone. "Well, soon you will be reading some different thoughts. Shock. Horror. Fear."

"Lestat!"

"Hush, Marius, I'm only kidding. But I will want an explanation."

"Fine, just be gentle about it," Marius said quickly, standing as Formosus and Louis appeared around the corner of the house, hand in hand no less.

"Lestat!" Louis cried. "I… thought you had gone to Europe." He dropped Formosus' hand but then quickly reclaimed it, grasping it tightly.

"I was," Lestat answered slowly. "But then I came back. I don't know why, I just did. And lucky it was, I see now, for I find you in the arms of another."

Louis smiled. "Lestat, how about if I told you I was ready to open up to you?"

"What?" Lestat asked, obviously caught off guard. "Open up? How do you mean?"

"You always want things from me, these affections and such, and I shy away too often. How about if I told you I felt that I was more ready to be with you than I have been before?"

Lestat walked up to Louis and examined him at close range. "And just how did this change occur?" he asked, turning his eyes pointedly to Formosus.

"It was Formosus, Lestat. He has a gift. Truly, if you don't believe me, you should go with him and see for yourself."

When Lestat made a dismissive gesture with his hand and seemed about to confront Formosus, Louis nodded his head in silence and said firmly, "Yes, Lestat, I love him. I also love you and now I would like to turn to you and share that love. But before that, I want you to understand."

Formosus stepped forward and took Lestat by the shoulders. "Are you ready, Lestat?"

"Yes, I suppose so, although I really don't understand what you're all going on about."

Lestat disappeared with Formosus into the house.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestat is back to his usual tricks, but Formosus has some of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

"Well what's it going to be?" asked Lestat as he followed Formosus into Marius' bedroom. "Are you going to throw me down on the bed and take me... or is there going to be a battle?"

Formosus stood at the corner of the bed, his body completely still, hands at his sides. For a moment Lestat merely stared at him in mute wonder. The beauty confused the issue. He decided to raise things up a notch. His life had become so boring of late - why not stir things up? In any case, he was feeling slightly annoyed to have his usual place in the spotlight usurped.

"Answer me, dear little man!"

Finally Formosus spoke: "You decide, Lestat."

"Decide what?"

"Seduction or battle," replied Formosus flatly.

"All right then, let me try the latter. And I do this because you obviously have taken my Louis somehow, brought him to you. I return and he is changed and -"

"Lestat," Formosus interrupted, "I really wish you could understand. I do not take anyone 'away,' I give them a gift, a feeling of happiness of -"

This time it was Lestat's turn to interrupt, but there were no words. Using the power of his mind, he struck Formosus and threw his body across the room, into the brick and plaster wall. Formosus' head hit with a crack and he crumpled to the floor, a great swipe of blood trailing on the wall above him.

Out in the yard, Louis flew towards the door. Marius caught him and held him still. Like the younger vampire, he had felt the power of Lestat's blow and the accompanying wave of pain.

"Let them be, young one," Marius said firmly, trying to be strong, as he knew he must.

"But he is being hurt!" Louis cried between his tears. "Lestat could kill him!"

Marius shook his head. "No, Louis, I do not believe that is so. Formosus is powerful and not in one way only."

Louis stopped struggling in Marius' arms. "Yes, I experienced that earlier tonight," Louis said softly. "He has a gift."

"Indeed he has. And believe me, Louis, that gift will save him."

Marius took Louis in his arms, hoping that this was true.

Meanwhile Formosus lay on the floor. The wound in his head had already healed and now his face and hair were covered with sticky, drying blood. He did not move, nor did he defend himself when Lestat continued his attack, kicking his sides, stomping on his hands. Formosus did not stir, even when blood tears were escaping down his cheeks by the dozen, mixing with the blood from his head.

All at once Lestat stopped and moved back with faltering steps. Looking at the scene before him, his mind went back to that awful night so long ago in Paris, at the Palais Royale, when Armand had seduced him, tried to draw his blood, betrayed him. That night he had beaten Armand to a pulp. Armand had been the stronger of the two, and yet he had allowed it. Afterward Armand lay broken on the ground like a smashed china doll. There had been no protest, no fight, only resignation. He had been beaten. Was this what had happened now? Was this one beaten? Lestat realized that the wounds were already closed but in a deeper sense, had he wounded this creature?

A silent voice startled him. _No, you have not._ The voice was beautiful, musical. Again he remembered Armand, this time the songs he had sung to him in those early days, songs across the miles, summons of the heart and soul. _I have let you wound me, only to show you that I cannot be hurt. And to show you how much I love you._

Lestat grew dizzy. Was Formosus creating a spell? No, that couldn't be, he was too strong to be controlled against his will, without his knowledge. Yet looking down at Formosus, something in that expression, covered in blood, was turning his heart. _Speak to me again,_ he said in his own silent voice.

 _Ask and you shall receive,_ sighed the voice in its timeless beauty. Lestat thought suddenly of Magnus, who had said the very same thing, just before he brought him into this life of darkness. When he had received that blood, he had no idea what it would mean. Or that the giver of that blood would perish that very night.

"Lestat," broke in the voice, now spoken with lips and not the mind, "I understand how you feel about Magnus."

"You do?" asked Lestat, unperturbed that his thoughts had been read.

 _Truly I do,_ replied Formosus.

"And not just from the books?"

"No, Lestat, I mean I understand what it was like, to be made like that, without the companionship of one's maker, alone in the world."

"I hadn't thought of that. You, Marius and I, all made my powerful, dying vampires needing heirs."

"Yes," Formosus said heavily. "I envy the likes of Louis, Armand, Benji, Sybelle... Made in love, brought in consciously, living to know their makers..." His words trailed off. He shook his head violently. "Not that I would have wanted to know my maker," he sighed. "It was only the idea I wanted to share... of being without a maker."

"But you must have made up for this later. Tell me about your children, Formosus," Lestat said soothingly, unprepared for the look of pure pain he saw in the visage of the young man before him, suddenly so stricken, as if he had received a fatal shot to the heart. What had he said? His thoughts raced. Akasha! She had killed his children! And he had forgotten this and had -

"No, Lestat," Formosus said quietly. He reached out and grasped Lestat's hand. Lestat slipped down to the floor and rested beside the by now healed body. "No, Lestat, they were not killed during the catastrophe." He paused. "I have no children and never have."

Now Lestat was truly sorry. How could he have brought this up so casually? He had simply thought it a given that a 2,000-year-old vampire would had to have given the world at least a few more vampires, if not dozens. Even Armand had made one. And Louis had made Madeleine, if only against his will. But to be completely alone, without companions, for that long? For Lestat this seemed an impossibility.

"You are fortunate, Lestat," Formosus said, obviously reading his thoughts again. "Not all of your immortal companions have lived on and certainly you have been through a great deal of pain on their account, but all the same, they were there for you when the mortal world pressed on you. And then of course you had the others, people like Marius, Armand, and finally after the catastrophe, a whole coven of vampires. Despite the fights, cruelties, conflict, you knew what it was to be with others of your kind. You shared the silent voice with them, you experienced the night together.

"For me, it was one lonely night after another. Either that or a night cavorting among humans, pretending that they could sustain me for eternity when in fact I knew what I needed most in the world was the company of equals. People with whom I could share my love, truly and deeply and forever."

Lestat watched as yet another tear trailed down Formosus' cheek. Leaning forward, his kissed the tear, tasted the blood. Powerful blood. Lestat kissed Formosus full on the lips. "Not anymore, Formosus, not anymore will you be alone. Not like that." He took the delicate hands in his own and kissed them. He gathered the smaller body in his arms and rising slowly, set him down on the bed.

He understood everything. Marius' unabashed love for this creature. When he had first seen it he had thought it was purely a matter of Formosus being from the time of Rome. Now he saw the perfection of the union, how Marius was getting the fledgling he was never able to have, and how Formosus was gaining the maker, the lover, he had not had since he was mortal.

And Louis, this one had come to Louis purely to love him and to experience another of his kind. To share his soul, his body, and make up for his years of empty longing, not to mention the centuries of dying under the ground. He had come to Louis and loosed his chains. Lestat wondered what surprises Louis would have in store for him and he smiled.

"He is a wondrous creature, your Louis," Formosus said quietly. "He makes me happy."

"He makes me happy, too," replied Lestat. Shifting gears: "And is there a way for me to make you happy, lonely little Formosus?"

Formosus nodded and smiled. "Yes, let me draw you close." Before Lestat knew what was happening, he felt himself pulled down onto the bed, not by hands but by the force of a powerful will. "Lestat, I want us to be together now. I will take you and you will take me."

 _But of course,_ sighed Lestat inwardly as he felt the first kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conclusion The dust finally settles and we see who's fallen where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.
> 
> Continues with next story in the series, "Carmen Aeternum."

By now it was an hour before dawn. Marius and Louis remained outside the house, straining for any sign of Lestat or Formosus.

"What on earth is going on?" Armand asked suddenly, taking them completely by surprise.

Louis spun around, startled. Marius merely turned his head. Armand stood a few feet away, flanked by Sybelle and Benji.

"What on earth is going on?" Armand repeated, when neither Marius nor Louis seemed ready with an answer.

Louis make an apologetic gesture towards the house. "Hush, Armand, Lestat is inside tearing Formosus limb from limb. Wouldn't want to interrupt anything, would we, Marius?"

Seeming to ignore the sideways glance Louis had given him, Marius finally turned around and took a few steps forward. He grasped Armand's hands confidentially. "Actually, it's been quiet in there for a good half an hour."

Armand was still in the dark, so to speak. "But why on earth was Lestat attacking Formosus in the first place? And why aren't you doing anything about it?"

Louis was quick to answer, "To the first question... Lestat was jealous. To the second question, Marius seems to think Lestat doesn't pose much of a threat to Formosus, he's too strong."

Armand's face showed his impatience. "Go back, go back. Lestat jealous? Of what?"

Louis turned his eyes to the ground, momentarily embarrassed. Marius was about to cut in when Louis looked up and met Armand's eyes. "Earlier tonight, Formosus paid a visit to me at Rue Royale."

Armand was silent for a moment. Then brightening, he squeezed Marius' hands and laughed. "Well, Marius, it seems you have a little competition!"

Marius couldn't suppress a grin. "Armand, I'll say it again, you are an imp!"

"Really? And what _is_ Formosus, the coven courtesan?"

Louis' eyes flashed with anger. "Armand, it's _not_ like that."

"And how _is_ it?" Armand dared to ask.

"Formosus is looking for something he has been cut off from since the day he was made: love. And Armand, Formosus seems to have been made for love. He has a gift which allows him to free those around him, to open their hearts. Physical intimacy is a part of this, but it is not the only dimension. As for jealousy, there is no need for anyone to be jealous of anyone else. Marius doesn't own Formosus and neither do I. Formosus simply wants to be with us, all of us. He has led a lonely life and now he wants to make up for it. And I for one have no problem accommodating him."

"But what about Lestat?" asked Armand, clearly skeptical. "Does he go along with this plan of yours?"

"We'll have to see," Marius said slowly. "And if I'm not mistaken, we are about to do so."

* * *

Presently Lestat and Formosus appeared in the doorway, arms wrapped around one another in careless affection. Both were flushed, glistening with blood sweat. Lestat's hair was in wild disarray, while Formosus' face remained partially caked with blood. Both appeared slightly drunk, even if it was clearly from pleasure.

Louis ran to Lestat and tore him off to the side.

"You aren't going to lecture me about morality, now are you?" Lestat said testily.

"No, but Lestat, what did you do to Formosus? I could tell you were hurting him and - but, my God, what are those marks on your neck?" Louis pulled down Lestat's collar and saw what appeared to be the remains of some very serious bite marks, nearly healed.

Lestat managed to appear slightly serious when he said, "Louis, I must confess, you were correct." He spoke like a drunken man at a banquet, able to say the most serious things without any inhibition. He continued, "Yes, you were correct."

Louis smiled. "And are you happy now?"

"Yes, I am, Louis," Lestat replied as he put his hands about Louis' waist. "Tell me, though, are you still feeling as 'open' as you were before?"

Louis kept right on smiling. "Oh, yes."

"Well, we certainly must take advantage of that -and soon!"

"Not too soon, however. We need to be getting home, dawn is rapidly approaching."

"True, so true..."

* * *

At the same moment Louis had drawn Lestat away, Marius and Armand had brought Formosus over to the patio. Formosus threw himself on a divan, apparently still somewhat exhausted from his ordeal.

Marius was the first to speak. He chose Latin because it was easiest and he knew Formosus was tired. "Are you hurt? You look dreadfully -"

"Beautiful," Armand cut in. Marius gave him a look as if to say, "Pardon me?"

Formosus laughed. "Both of you, I'm fine You mustn't worry. Lestat threw me into the wall and cracked open my head, nothing that requires more than a moment or two to heal. Remember, you could probably drive one of those horrid highway trucks over me and I wouldn't die."

"Don't try it, my love," said Marius lightly. "Such a daring one, you are! You tell me you're so frightened of Lestat and the first time you meet him you humble him and the second time, you seduce him!"

"Consider it a survival technique," Formosus declared.

"Speaking of survival," Armand broke in, "have you decided what you're going to be doing?"

"I believe I said I'd like to remain here in New Orleans," Formosus replied, clasping Marius' hands and giving them a squeeze. "That is still my choice."

"And Lestat and Louis? You will continue to be... intimate with them?" Armand pried.

Formosus thought on this. "Probably not now, as I believe they will too busy entertaining one another. I'd still like to spend time with them, of course, but it needn't be -"

Marius noticed a look of exasperation on Armand's face. "What is it, Amadeo? You look positively put out."

"Good, God, Marius, wouldn't you be? One day I have what seems like a perfectly functional living arrangement with my maker and two of my dearest fledglings. Suddenly a stranger appears, seduces my maker, seduces an old lover of mine, seduces that lover's lover..." Armand was interrupted by a low rumble of laughter from Marius. "Why are you laughing?"

"Oh, Amadeo, you are so transparent! You are sitting here interrogating Formosus and fretting simply because you are... _jealous!_ "

" _Jealous?_ No, that's not it, that's silly... I, ah... uhm... I am _not_ jealous!" Suddenly Formosus snagged his arms and dragged him onto the divan. It was remarkable how little Armand struggled.

"So," Formosus said simply, "would you like to spend some time with me tomorrow evening? It would be quite easy to arrange."

"Well, if you insist!" Armand laughed. "Goodness, but you _are_ a courtesan!"

Formosus laughed and kissed Armand's curls. 

* * *

Louis and Lestat approached, ready to head home. Formosus rose gracefully, taking Armand with him. Louis offered a polite hand, which Formosus shook.

"Thank you for the wonderful evening, Formosus," he said. "I thank you and Lestat thank you."

"You do, Lestat? You didn't hate it?" Formosus teased.

"Hardly," Lestat replied with a wink.

"Well, then, we should be going," Louis announced. "The night is over for me. I will see you soon, perhaps tomorrow or perhaps in a few days. Be well, Formosus."

"Likewise." Formosus gave each man a kiss on the lips and then they turned to go.

As they walked away, Marius wondered aloud, "Now I wonder how we could end this evening?"

A few paces away, a forgotten Benji cried, "Formosus, you could sing for us!"

It was the very thing, they all silently agreed.

Formosus moved away from them and began to sing.

> Ten thousand rivers  
> I sent to you  
> To fill your lakes  
> To feed your fields  
> To soak your roots
> 
> Ten thousand rivers  
> You send to me  
> And fill my heart  
> And feed my mind  
> And soak my soul  
> With love

Formosus bowed and said, "It is an ancient song."


End file.
